Wayward Son
by Edie Zee
Summary: As the end of Dean's year draws near, he starts to fall apart while Sam and others look for a way to save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Wayward Son**

Author: Edie Zee

Summary: As the end of Dean's year draws near, he starts to fall apart while Sam and others look for a way to save him.

Rating:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the characters I made up.

Author's Note: If you haven't ready my story "You Can't Go Home Again," you won't know who some of the characters are.

_Chapter One_ - _Once I rose above the noise and confusion_

* * *

Sam let out a shout of fear, watching helplessly as Dean and the Shapeshifter went over the edge of the roof. The younger Winchester raced over, afraid to look but also desperate to do so. He let out a sigh of relief and clutched his chest to calm his pounding heart. The Shapeshifter had landed on a parked car, and Dean had landed on the Shapeshifer. Dean was picking himself up slowly and painfully – but at least he was picking himself up.

Sam ran back to the staircase to take the _safe_ way down to the street. By the time he reached his brother, Dean had already stabbed the Shapeshifter with a silver knife, and was inspecting his leather coat for any damage.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam yelled, upset and angry. "There was no need to tackle him! _Especially_ with where he was standing."

"Hey," Dean smiled cockily, "Got the job done, didn't it?"

"You could have been _killed_, Dean."

"Nah…my year's not up yet, Sammy."

Sam stared speechless after his brother, who had already begun the walk back to the other side of the building, where the Impala was waiting for them.

Following him, Sam shook his head but knew better than to say anything else. The closer the year's end came, the more reckless Dean was becoming and the less he wanted to discuss it. His brother _had_ admitted a while ago that he didn't want to die, but since then Sam couldn't really get him to do anything about it. He kept reminding Sam that he _couldn't_ do anything about it – if he did, the deal was void and Sam would die.

Sam, meanwhile, kept telling Dean that that didn't mean _he_ couldn't do anything about it. But Dean wouldn't even talk about that anymore either.

Now…it was less than two months away, and instead of allowing time for Sam to research ways out of the deal, Dean was making them go after the supernatural at a relentless rate. They hadn't taken a break in two months – not since they had taken the time to visit Maia and Sam's other friends. Sam didn't know if Dean's single-mindedness was a way to ignore what was coming, or to make sure he took as many of the bad guys with him as he could – or if he was trying to get his death over with already. Sam knew the waiting was driving Dean nuts, if his pacing at night instead of sleeping was any indication.

Sam just wished Dean would _talk_ to him, let him help…

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sam was in their hotel room, and Dean was at the nearby bar. Sam had begged off going with him, not wanting to waste time he could be using to save Dean's life.

Dean sat at the bar, nursing his beer and pretending his body didn't ache from the fall earlier. He was on his third drink, but it wasn't doing much to drown out the thoughts that were pretty much constantly with him these days. Lately, alcohol was the only thing that could help him with the fears, dread and hopelessness – and now even alcohol was failing him.

A tiny little blonde pressed up against him to order her drink. The bar wasn't crowded enough to necessitate that, so Dean took it as his cue to turn to her with his patented, charming smile. _Maybe she'll help…_

* * *

Dean pounded into the girl, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the fact that it bothered him that her hair wasn't silky smooth auburn. That her gasps didn't sound quite right. That her body didn't feel quite right. She was the latest attempt to forget about a certain person who did look, sound, and feel _right_. Dean would never admit to Sam – or himself – that he was trying to forget her…or admit that these girls weren't quite as satisfying as they used to be.

The girl – Lisa? Kelly? – screamed out his name, clawing at his back. Also finishing, Dean rolled off her and immediately began to get dressed to leave, not even pretending that she meant more to him than a soft body with which to find his own release.

The girl looked offended, but Dean couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. Lately, he couldn't bring himself to _feel_ anything…

_

* * *

_

Two Months Ago…

Dean couldn't help smiling at how happy Sam looked at the sight of Maia running out of the house the second she saw the Impala pull up to the curb. Sam launched himself out of the car just in time to be tackled with a hug and a kiss.

Being around Sam's friends and girlfriend was something they tried to do as often as they could since the truth came out about a year ago. Dean usually had ulterior motives for driving in that direction – ever since Sam had died and Dean had made the deal, being around them was the only time Sam truly relaxed. Dean liked to see that. Not to mention, he knew Sam's friends would play an important part in helping Sam deal with …things…in a couple weeks.

While Sam's friends always welcomed Dean too, he still felt slightly uncomfortable in their world. Fortunately, they felt pretty much the same way – so no one noticed when he slipped out of the house to give them time to catch up. Sitting down on the front steps, Dean enjoyed the night's perfect California weather.

He pulled out his phone, temptation racing through his veins. He had almost called her several times this year and now, being in California, being so close, the urge to hear her voice was even stronger.

He just didn't understand the need for her when – technically – he had only known her at most a week. Not to mention that she would probably hang up on him if he did call, given the way he ended things.

The need for her was too strong tonight, but the fear of rejection (_Me…afraid of rejection!) _was just as strong, so he did the next best thing and dialed Bill's number before he could stop himself.

"Dean?" Bill's voice was confused and concerned – not knowing why the hunter was calling him for the first time in about a year.

"Hey, Bill."

"Is anything wrong?"

"No…no. We're in Palo Alto, so I just thought I'd call and see how things were going with you. Any more troubles?"

"No. Things are pretty quiet around here."

"That's good." The men made small talk for a while, with Dean giving some of the details of their most recent cases. The conversation was coming to a close before Dean gathered enough courage to ask, as nonchalantly as possible, how "Viola" Dawson was doing.

"Viola? God, she left at the end of last school year. I haven't heard from her since."

"Oh," Dean's heart clenched, wondering where she was, what she was doing, how she was doing…who she was doing… And he had no way of knowing without actually calling _her_.

Dean hung up a short while later, not really paying attention to the rest of the conversation. Snapping his phone shut, he tossed it from hand to hand.

_Should I call her?_ Dean sighed, shaking his head. Even if she did forgive him, what would be the point? It would just be one more person that would have to watch him die…

_

* * *

_

Present time

Music was playing softly in the background, allowing Dean to sleep while Sam drove. That had been happening too much lately for Sam's comfort. He didn't know if he should be more worried that Dean regularly stumbled into the hotel room late, smelling of alcohol and sex, or if he should be more worried that Dean didn't seem to be concerned anymore about who drove his "baby."

Sam shook his head, at his wit's end for how to get through to Dean. His brother was spiraling out of control, and –

The sharp pain in his head caused Sam to gasp.

_Dean, in a church, sitting in the front pew…_

_Lights flashing…_

_Dean on his knees, screaming in agony…_

Coming back to himself, Sam opened his eyes to see that he was missing a turn and speeding straight toward a tree. Shouting in alarm, he slammed on the brakes, twisted the wheel, and braced for impact. Dean jerked awake, saw what was happening and reached out to grab onto any handhold he could find. The Impala missed the tree by an inch, but it still hit the side of the road going too fast. It flipped twice in a sickening crunch of metal and glass, and landed on its roof.

**A couple more Author's Notes:**

1) I know that for a Dean-focused story, I spent an awful lot of time on Sam's thoughts in this first chapter. It's not _always_ going to be like this, but it might be sometimes. I'm doing that because obviously Sam is going to dwell on things and feelings more than Dean's going to. So I think that fits.

2) Much how in the last story I didn't write about the crossroads deal, I'm not going to deal much in this story with Sam's visions, Lillith and the coming war – basically the vision in this chapter and its aftermath will be the only times it's dealt with.

3) Some of you may have noticed that the mention of sex above isn't the "fade to black" approach I took in the last story. This also serves a purpose – I'm going to use sex in this story much like Dean does: as a way to try to deal with or avoid his problems. Hence the rating, and I'm sorry if anyone is offended (for those who might be offended, I'm not going to ever be too "descriptive" with things.)

4) I may be a little slower or less regular in my posting of this story. I am motivated to write it, but I really do have a lot of stuff to do as this semester winds to a close. I'd appreciate it if you stick with me through it, and I'll certainly do my best to post as much/ often as I can!


	2. Chapter 2

ONE review?! That...kinda hurts... :) Anyhoo. Here's the next chapter, so enjoy!!

_Chapter 2 – Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion_

Dean groaned in pain as he slowly regained consciousness. Blood dripped into his eye. He had no idea how long it had been, but the coming twilight outside indicated that it had been quite a bit of time.

Worry coursed through him, and he turned to the driver's seat. Sam was hanging suspended by his seatbelt, unconscious.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean felt like he was shouting, but only a croaking sound came out. Grimacing, he reached to release his own seatbelt and fell the rest of the way to the ground with a thunk. Crawling out the open window, Dean stood and quickly double-checked that he was no worse for wear than he was before the accident. Besides the scrape on his face and a few new bruises, he was still just as sore as he had been when he was only dealing with the fall, not the fall and the crash.

Quickly making his way to the other side of the car, Dean knelt beside his brother, shouting his name and shaking his shoulder. Sam jerked awake. When rational thought came back to him, Sam mumbled that he was alright. Releasing his own belt, Sam allowed Dean to help him crawl out of the car.

"What the hell happened, Sam?"

Putting a hand to his head, Sam said apologetically, "I'm so sorry Dean. I got a vision. When it ended, I had lost control of the car."

Dean immediately looked concerned. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. You?"

"Y'know it takes more than a little bumps and bruises to take me out of the game." Dean grinned, before turning back to business. "What did you see?"

Sam immediately decided that Dean didn't need any more things to dread. "I don't know. It wasn't very clear."

The younger Winchester avoided Dean's look, hoping he couldn't tell that Sam was lying. Looking at the damaged car, Sam sighed. "Well, it's a good thing we're relatively close to Bobby's." He whipped out his phone to dial.

Sam walked a few steps away to talk with the older hunter and explain what happened. Dean, meanwhile, bent down to examine the damage, whimpering a little at what he saw. So much had happened to his poor baby in the last couple of years. He didn't know how much more she could take… how much more he could take…

"Bobby'll be here in about an hour," Sam said as he walked back toward Dean and closed his phone. "He said we're welcome to stay as long as it takes to fix up the "ol' girl" but that we'll have to take the floor."

Dean shot Sam a confused look.

"Jo showed up last night on her way through town, so she's got the pull-out couch. And Bobby's been helping train a new hunter for the last couple weeks, so there goes the spare room."

If Dean hadn't been so focused on his car, he might have wondered why Sam had such a mischievous smirk on his face. As it was, he merely commented on the strangeness of the situation. "That's odd. Bobby hasn't trained anyone since … well, since you started riding with me."

"Don't know. I gather he knew this hunter's brother or something."

"Hmm." Dean, finished with his inspection, knelt down in the ground next to the overturned car. Spreading his arms out and placing his hands on the metal, almost as if he was hugging it, Dean spoke softly to the Impala. "Don't worry, baby. You'll be right as rain in no time…"

Sam shook his head and went to sit down on the side of the road to wait for Bobby.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time the headlight's of Bobby's tow truck came into view. The brothers stood with groans reminiscent of old men. Both were a little sore from the accident – and Dean from the fall of the roof – but neither would admit it to the other.

Bobby climbed down from the truck, whistling when he saw the damage to the car. "Oh boy, you got your work cut out for you." Shaking his head, he focused on the Winchesters. "You boys OK?"

"We're fine, Bobby. Thanks for coming to get us," Sam answered for both of them.

"No problem. Well, let's get this baby loaded up." Dean helped Bobby with the tow truck's mechanical arm, needing to be a part of the process to ensure no further damage was done. When it was secure for the trip back to Bobby's, the three men piled into the truck's cab, which was just a little too small for all of them to sit comfortably.

The three spent the first few minutes of the drive catching up with everyone's progress on fighting the demons that had escaped from hell the year before. Plenty had been dispatched by the three of them as well as other hunters, but they knew there were likely many, many more left to take care of.

They spent the rest of the drive giving details of the most recent cases. The couple times Dean mentioned something about the hunter Bobby was training, Sam jumped in and changed the subject. Dean was confused by this but didn't say anything, as most of the questions Sam asked at those times were ones that he deemed important too. He figured they'd find out more about this hunter when they met him.

The conversation died down as Dean's and Sam's yawns grew more frequent. Bobby let them rest their eyes the rest of the way to his place, smiling at the boys he considered to be the closest thing he'd have to sons. They were both sleeping soundly by time he pulled into the auto yard. Shaking them awake, he led the way inside, with them stumbling after them.

Reaching his front door, Bobby pulled down a piece of paper with his name written on it that was taped to it. He scanned the note quickly, then unlocked the door.

"Jo took my trainee out for a few drinks. They shouldn't be back until later, so why don't you guys just go back to sleep. We'll all catch up in the morning."

The tired Winchesters didn't complain about this plan, and didn't have any trouble falling back asleep despite being on the hard floor. They didn't even wake up a couple hours later when two girls let themselves into Bobby's house. They were obviously trying to be quiet for the sleeping brothers, but being a little tipsy, were still loud enough to cause Sam to roll over as if he was about to wake up. They made shushing noises to each other and tiptoed exaggeratedly past the bodies on the floor. Jo flopped on the couch, ready to sleep too. The other girl paused in front of Dean, staring down at him with a wistful look on her face, before finding her own bed.

* * *

The sun was just coming up when Dean awoke. His brain was fuzzy and begging for more sleep, but his sore body knew that wasn't going to happen on the hard floor. Wincing as he crawled his way to a standing position, he noticed Jo on the couch, passed out to the world, and his brother sleeping with one arm thrown across his eyes to block out the light that was coming in through the gap in the curtains.

Dean pulled on the clothes he had worn yesterday, wrinkling his nose at the smell but knowing they'd be perfect for the messy, sweaty work he'd be doing this morning. Deciding to start working on the car right away and wait for breakfast until everyone else woke up, Dean pulled on his boots and eased out the front door.

He turned on the radio Bobby kept out in the yard, wishing he could blare it but decided to play it low for the sake of their host and the rest of his houseguests. Looking at the Impala, he was at a loss for where to start in the repairs. He knew it was going to take several weeks to get in the necessary parts and fix her – possibly even to the end of his year.

It bothered him, knowing they were likely not going to be hunting anytime soon. Dean knew that Sam had several theories on why he was so gung-ho about hunting lately. The truth of the matter was simple – Dean just couldn't sit still and wait for the end to come. When he was moving, he could ignore the thoughts running through his head. Now, he would have nothing to help him block them out.

Not to mention – if they were hunting at the end, then that means he'd be going out hunting. He wanted that death. If he couldn't die old in his bed, then he wanted to die doing what he was born to do. He didn't want to die an ignoble death; that would be adding insult to injury.

Now, it looked like he wouldn't even get that…

Sighing and running a hand over his close-cropped hair, Dean decided to get started on the Impala. The least he could do was make sure it was all set for Sammy before he was gone. Grabbing a tool box, Dean lowered himself onto the ground and slid under the car to check out the engine from below.

As he expected, it was only a short while before his mind started to wander to other things. Luckily, for once, his thoughts weren't about his impending death and an eternity in hell. Instead, his mind played over and over again the words Bobby spoke to him in this very junkyard a year ago.

_Damn it, Dean! I could throttle you._

_What is it with you Winchesters? You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit!_

_What and it didn't before? Have you got that low an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head?_

It wasn't the first time Dean had replayed that conversation in his head. For awhile, Dean had convinced himself that it didn't matter what Bobby had said – Dean had done the right thing; he couldn't just let Sammy die…

And he still didn't regret that decision. He would make the same deal again this very day. Hell, he would have died at that moment - would have given up even the one year – if that's what it took.

But, now, he admitted to himself that Bobby had been right about the rest of it. Somewhere along the way of becoming the perfect soldier, the perfect brother, the perfect hunter…he had lost what it meant to be himself. And now, he wouldn't have the opportunity to fix that. He would never get the chance to find out what kind of person he could become, what kind of life he could lead … what else his life could mean…

* * *

Sam awoke to the delicious smell of coffee and bacon. His stomach growled at him, reminding him that they hadn't eaten since several hours before the accident. Hearing voices in the kitchen and seeing that both Dean and Jo were out of their beds, Sam quickly sat up and pulled on his clothes.

Making his way into the kitchen, Sam saw Bobby, Jo and Emilia laughing and making breakfast together.

"Sam!" Bobby called out. The girls turned to face him with smiles on their faces, although Jo had a teasing glint in her eye.

"Sam. How about a nice glass of OJ and holy water this morning?"

"I'm not possessed, Jo." Sam smiled, pulling his shirt aside to reveal the tattoo. "And allow me to _once again_ say that I'm _sorry_."

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time." Jo grinned. "You know Emilia, right?"

Sam gave Jo a look, wondering exactly what the girls had talked about for Jo to know that they knew each other. They seemed a little too friendly for Jo to know about Emilia and Dean's history, given the torch the blonde was carrying for his brother. Either that, or she was over it…?

He reached out a hand to shake Emilia's. "Yes. How are you doing, Em?"

"Good. You? We saw the car last night – it looks like it was a pretty nasty accident."

"Nah, I'm fine. We've been in worse." Sam gratefully grabbed the coffee cup Bobby handed him. "How's training going? Is Bobby giving you a lot of grief?"

"No, he's great! I'm learning a lot."

"That's good. He's definitely one of the best!" Sam said with a grin in Bobby's direction.

"You don't have to suck up, Sam. I already said you guys could stay here as long as it took."

Sam chuckled and took a sip. "Where's Dean?" He inwardly snickered at the look that crossed Em's face, as it confirmed that she still had feelings for his brother.

Bobby pointed in the general direction of the junkyard. "Already working on that damn car."

"Jesus Christ. It's only 7. What time did he wake up?"

"I don't know. He was out there when I woke up."

"God…him and that car." Sam shook his head and wandered off toward the bathroom.

Bobby laughed and went back to cooking the eggs. Sliding them onto the plates that already contained bacon and toast, he put the pan back down. Going over to the nearby window, he opened it and stuck his head out.

"Dean!" he bellowed.

"What?" Came the faint response.

"Breakfast!"

The three didn't hear anything in response to that but a minute later they heard the door opening. Dean came into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel but unaware of a matching grease stain on his cheekbone. Putting the towel in his back pocket, he looked up to finally see who was standing there with him.

"Vi - Emilia?"


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everyone! Sorry if I confused anybody - I took the story down and re-submitted it because I noticed it wasn't showing up in the list of stories. So I didn't know if everybody could see it, or just the people who have me on alerts. Hopefully re-submitting fixes things so it shows up.

Also, I'm getting pretty much no reviews. I don't mean to blackmail (again) but I do have other things I could be doing with my time... I would appreciate any feedback you guys want to give (positive OR negative!) Just as long as I know someone's reading...

Anyhoo! Enjoy:

_Chapter Three – I was soaring ever higher_

Aware he was staring, Dean cleared his throat and wrenched his eyes away from the girl he had tried to _not_ think about for a year. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the table, desperate to have something in his hands so they wouldn't reach out for her. His heart was pounding, his stomach was fluttering and…_other parts of him_…were also happy to see her.

He sat down quickly.

"Hi, Dean." She said softly, and her voice was like Metallica to his ears.

"_Hi, Dean_." Jo said pointedly from the other side of the table.

"Oh, hi, Jo. How are you?"

"Great, thanks, and you?"

"Hmmph." Dean grunted, his mouth already full to stop himself from saying … _things_… he shouldn't be saying. Things Dean Winchester did _not_ say. Things like "I love you," "I miss you," "I'm sorry…"

Instead, he gestured with his fork in the direction of the car. "I'll be better when I get her running again."

Jo rolled her eyes and smiled, digging into her own food.

"Dean!" Sam's voice as he rejoined them in the kitchen was a little too happy for Dean's comfort. "Look who Bobby's trainee is."

Dean turned to glare at Sam, which earned him an even bigger grin in response. The twinkle in Sam's eyes confirmed for Dean that his brother had known it was Emilia for a long time. The least he could have done was _warn_ him… Dean went back to shoveling his food into his mouth. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could retreat to the junkyard.

But Sam, of course, just wouldn't let things go… "So Em, how did that happen? How did you come to be here, under Bobby's tutelage?"

"Well," she directed her response to Sam, who couldn't help noticing with an inward glee that her eyes kept surreptitiously sliding over to look at his brother. "You may remember that I said my brother was a hunter? Well, he and Bobby did a few jobs together. When I left Sacramento at the end of last school year – in order to become a full-time hunter – I did a few jobs on my own here and there. But I knew I was succeeding more from beginner's luck than I was from any real skill. So I contacted some of my brother's friends to see if there was anyone to help me to figure out how to do things. And everyone suggested I ask Bobby here. So I begged and pleaded until he agreed." The last line was directed at the older man, with an affectionate smile.

"Isn't that interesting, Dean?" Sam asked, poking his brother.

"Mm-hmm" Dean answered, still focused directly on his breakfast. Sam rolled his eyes, wondering once again how old his brother _really_ was, in terms of behavior at least…

Before Sam could think of a new way to get the two of them talking directly to each other – or at least to get Dean to look up from his plate – the sound of his cell phone going off in the living room interrupted. Norah Jones' _The Nearness of You_…Maia. The first song they danced to together.

Dean snorted. "Say hi for me, Samantha."

Bobby reached over and slapped Dean upside the head. "Just because your brother can commit to a girl for longer than 20 seconds doesn't mean you should make fun of him for it, Dean."

Dean inwardly cringed, eyes slipping to look at Emilia for the first time since he walked in. Now it was her turn to be staring at her plate, but he could see a faint blush on her cheeks – embarrassment? anger?

Quickly draining his coffee cup, he brought it and his plate and over to the sink, rinsing them off for the dishwasher.

"I'll be outside."

He walked out of the room, not having to turn around to know that _her_ eyes were watching him walk away…again.

* * *

Dean was back under the car, taking his anger at himself out on the engine and tools. Swearing softly, he determined to finish fixing the car earlier than he thought possible. He could _not_ spend his last couple weeks here with _her. _Wasn't he already being punished enough?

Distracted by his body, which just wanted to ignore what his brain was telling him and go to gather her into his arms, he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. To make the day even _better_, oil started spraying out on him.

"Aaargh!" Dean shoved himself out from under the car, furiously wiping at his eyes with his just-as-oily hands. He threw the wrench in his hand at the tool box, taking comfort in the clanging sound when the two met.

Stomping into Bobby's house and grumbling the whole way, Dean made his way to the bathroom, grabbing his duffel bag on the way. In the bathroom, he stripped off the now ruined shirt, catching it briefly on his necklace. He turned on the water to warm up, kicked off his boots and pulled his pants off. Stepping into the shower, he gasped at the cold water, reminding himself to never be the last one to take a shower again, especially with two girls in the house.

Not willing to stay in the icy flow longer than it took to get the oil out of his hair, Dean was out of the shower in record time. He rubbed a towel briskly over his body, trying to get feeling and warmth back into his limbs. Pulling a fresh pair of jeans on, he swore when he realized his other shirts were still in the back of the Impala.

"Could this day get any worse?" He grumbled, opening the door to step out right in front of Emilia.

He stopped short in his tracks, and his heart started beating double time. He knew he would have to talk to her alone eventually, but he wasn't prepared for it now… His mouth went dry as he noticed that her eyes were glued to a drop of water trickling down his chest. Dean gripped the door frame, fighting the urge to grab her and drag her back into the bathroom with him.

She cleared her throat and looked up at him, while he schooled his face into a less lustful expression. "Sorry. I didn't know you were in there…"

"That's okay." _What on earth is that sound? That can't be my voice…I don't sound like that, do I?_

Emilia's eyes drifted back down, and Dean's need caused a swirling sensation in his stomach.

"Those…uh, those bruises look bad." Emilia said, reaching a hand out to his side, where the black and blue evidence of his fall off the roof was starting to turn a sickly yellowish brown. He twitched involuntarily away from her touch, just as she stopped her hand in its reach, held it there for a second, and slowly let it drop down to her side. Dean told himself it was because he didn't want her to touch his sore body. It had nothing to do with the fact that he didn't think his heart could handle it if he felt her hands brush against his naked body again.

The hurt in her eyes made him wonder if she thought he twitched for a different reason…

She met his eyes again, an unreadable expression playing across her face. "Look, Dean. There's no need for us to feel uncomfortable around each other. It's been over a year. I'm over it. I'm over _you._" She smiled a sad smile. "It's not like you're _that_ irresistible."

Dean chuckled, trying to hide the fact that his heart felt worse than it did when he had been electrocuted and almost died. He knew he only had himself to blame. In fact, it was nothing less than he expected.

But he could have finished off his year without having to hear it…

"Good. That's good…" He trailed off, avoiding eye contact once again. "Friends?"

"Of course." Emilia smiled, then playfully punched him on the shoulder like a guy friend would do. She walked away, leaving Dean to follow her with his eyes and a shoulder that burned with her touch.


	4. Chapter 4

Here you go, NothingButSarah, you've inspired me. :)

_Chapter 4 – But I flew too high_

After grabbing a fresh shirt from the broken car, Dean joined his brother and Bobby.

"Thanks, Bobby. I really appreciate it. It's not like you don't have enough people at your place right now?" Sam said.

"Yeah…so what's one more?" Bobby asked with a smile.

Sam chuckled. Dean had a good guess what they were talking about, as his brother seemed to radiate joy. "What's going on?"

"I just finished talking to Maia, told her we'd be here at least for two weeks or so. She started break yesterday. So, Bobby says it's okay if she comes out here."

"Great!" Dean clapped Sam on the back before turning to Bobby. "Thanks Bobby, you have no idea how gloomy this guy's been, not having seen her in _two whole months…_"

Dean chuckled at Sam's glare. "For _normal_ people, that's a long time, Dean." Sam was too happy to notice the light fade in his brother's eyes at his words, but Bobby saw it, making a mental note to remember that for the future.

"Well, I'm glad to help," Bobby said. "I'm sure if you asked, Emilia would give up her room for you two."

"Oh, she shouldn't have to do that." Dean jumped in immediately, not wanting to deal with having Em sleep so close to him. Sam, however, jumped on the idea – and Dean had a sneaky suspicion it was for the same reason. _Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…you are not a subtle matchmaker…_

Sam was bouncing off the walls at lunch, unable to wait until he could take Bobby's truck to go to the airport. Maia had been lucky enough to get a fairly early flight, and would be getting into town later that night. Dean couldn't help but smile at his brother's antics, happy he had found someone, happy that his heart was no longer aching for Jess…happy that he wouldn't be _alone_.

Bobby and the girls were laughing too, but Sam was in too good of a mood to let their teasing get to him.

Jo shook her head with a grin spreading across her face. "How can two brothers be so different when it comes to girls?"

Dean's stomach flopped before he remembered they were _just friends_ now, that she didn't care about him that way, that she probably wouldn't care if he had a different girl every night until the day he died.

If she didn't care, then she certainly didn't need to see that he _did._

Adopting his usual cocky attitude, he shot Jo a grin and took a sip of his Coke before answering. "I guess I'm just lucky I'm the one that has the sense to not be love's idiot."

Jo rolled her eyes.

Sam came up behind his brother and put his hands on his shoulders. "Oh, come now…that's not true and you know it. You've been in love."

Bobby started laughing. "Oh, Sam. You should have seen him with Cassie. He had it _bad_."

Dean pointed at Bobby, a stern expression on his face. "Hey. That was a youth's indiscretion."

"23's not really a "youth," Dean."

"Who's Cassie?" Jo asked – and Dean was happy to note she didn't sound jealous. Could she be over the crush? That would make things a lot easier…

"She-" Sam started, but Dean interrupted. "Was just a girl I used to date."

"I thought Dean Winchester didn't _date._" Emilia asked, and the look on her face told Dean that she hadn't meant to say that – that she didn't want him to know that there was still a part of her that thought back to the idea of them. Hope soared in Dean's heart, quickly followed, as always, by his mind reminding him that it didn't really matter, did it?

"There's an exception to every rule." Dean said with a shrug, tilting his head back to get the rest of his soda.

"I used to want to date Dean," Jo said conspiratorially to Emilia, while winking at Dean. "Luckily, I came to my senses."

"Glad to hear that." Dean said.

"Yeah, I bet. No more of me throwing myself at you… No, I'm happily involved with someone right now, actually."

"Good for you."

"Thanks. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to be happy, Dean. Don't you ever think about taking the plunge, settling down – with this Cassie chick or _somebody_?"

Jo looked confused at the looks Dean, Sam and Bobby were sending her way. "What?"

"Didn't your mom tell you?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Tell me what?"

Sam opened his mouth. Dean stood to head back out to the junkyard, no longer wanting to participate in this discussion.

"Shut the hell up, Sammy." He said loud enough for the others to hear, mumbling the rest of his words for Sam alone. "No one else needs to know…"

The others watched Dean walk out, and then the girls turned to look at Sam in confusion and curiosity.

"What?" Jo asked.

Sam opened his mouth again, but never spoke. Instead, he saw Bobby shaking his head softly at him and took the older man's silent direction to – for now – respect Dean's wishes.

* * *

Dean sat on Bobby's steps, nursing his third beer of the night. Bobby and the girls were inside, watching TV, and Dean had to chuckle at the _normalcy_ of that. Sam had left a short while ago for the airport. Dean had sat with the rest of them for a little while, until he could no longer take being so close to her.

And now he was outside, getting drunk _again_, and fighting the lump in his throat.

"_Don't you ever think about taking the plunge, settling down – with this Cassie chick or _somebody_?"_

The funny thing was, there were only two girls in the entire world that had ever made him think about settling down – Cassie and Emilia. Despite their brief reunion during the case of the ghost truck, he knew in his heart that it would never work out with Cassie. A couple years ago, her rejection of him had cut deep – and was partly responsible for him being even more flippant when it came to girls than he was before her. But it didn't hurt as much as the thought of not being able to have a future with Emilia.

_Why couldn't he have met her years ago? Back when he used to secretly dream of a future…Back when he used to think that some day he'd, like Sammy, have a chance at a normal life. Back when he wanted more than to be John's perfect soldier. _

_Back before he had realized and accepted that he didn't _get_ to have more than that… _

* * *

Author's Note: I couldn't remember if the show said how old Dean was when he met Cassie. So we're going with 23. :)


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5 – Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man_

_

* * *

_

Six years ago

Dean walked into the bar, eyes scanning the room for any possibilities while he made his way to place his order. He and John had rolled into Ohio just a couple days ago, but had already figured out the situation behind the librarian's ghost killing patrons. And, no, contrary to Dean's joking, it wasn't because they were being too loud. Typically – boringly - the ghost was taking out her anger on men who reminded her of the one who killed her.

John was at the cemetery, salting and burning the body. He had given Dean leave to go out and have some fun, saying there was no need for both of them to waste the night knee deep in dirt and bones.

Dean grabbed the beer that the bartender – male, unfortunately – slid in his direction. He swiveled in his chair, leaning back against the wood of the bar while taking a long pull of the alcohol and continuing to look at the sweet young things dancing on the floor, seeing if any caught his eye.

When he wasn't hunting, Dean spent most of his time doing exactly what he was doing. It certainly had its perks; he wouldn't deny that. But a part of him missed hanging out in front of the TV, watching bad movies with Sammy. It had been a year since John had kicked Sam out for wanting to go to college, but there were times when Dean forgot that his pain-in-the-neck kid brother wasn't there.

The now familiar urge to call Sam rose up in him, but Dean quickly suppressed it. Sam had said some cruel things that night – to Dad, not to him, but they _felt_ like they were to him too.

_I'm not going to stick around doing something I hate, Dad. I'm not going to be your perfect little soldier. I want something more out of my life. I'm going to college and you can't stop me. _

_I'm not going to be your perfect little solder._ In his mind, Dean added the words "like Dean." _I want something more out of my life_. "I don't want to end up like Dean."

How could he not hear those words? It's not like he hadn't questioned it before too. It's just that the answers to those questions had always turned out to be different than the ones Sam came up with.

So he didn't know if Sam even wanted him to call…

Unwilling to deal with the longing in his heart anymore, Dean focused back on the dance floor. Just in time to see a beautiful girl throw back her head in laughter, joy emanating from her as her body pulsed in time to the fast beat. The way she moved…Dean's mind started going into the gutter thinking about other ways she could move…

She was a light-skinned African-American girl, with shining curls draping down her back and bouncing in time to her movements. She was surrounded by friends, but Dean was happy to see none of them were male.

Since Dean _didn't_ dance, he was forced to wait for her to tire and leave the dance floor for a drink. Luckily, she came up to the bar near him.

"Nice moves out there." Dean drawled, almost nonchalantly…like he was just making an observation – definitely not trying to pick her up or anything… She rewarded him with a smile and a blush.

"Thanks."

Dean flashed his best grin at her, holding out a hand. "Dean Winchester."

"Cassie Robinson." She shook his hand, and Dean couldn't help but notice how smooth her skin was…and wonder if the rest of her skin was as soft. He held onto her hand slightly longer than normal, causing her to blush and look down. "Well…I gotta…get back to my friends."

She walked away, causing Dean to wonder if he was losing his touch. The cocky grin returned full-force, however, when she looked back at him over her shoulder. He knew it was just a matter of time, especially since her friends started giggling and shooting him looks.

Swallowing a smile, he turned back around to hunch over the bar and his beer. _5…4…3…2…1…_

"So." Cassie said, taking the seat next to him. "Where are you from, Dean?"

* * *

Somewhere during the course of the night, the tables were turned on Dean, and instead of being the one doing the seducing, he was the one quickly falling under her spell. She was … amazing. He was surprised to see hours had passed and, instead of trying his luck in suggesting "getting out of there," he was content to sit there and talk to her. Cassie fairly glowed as she talked about her family, her friends, the journalism classes she was taking.

Even stranger, he found himself telling … parts of… the truth. That he moved around a lot as a child. That his mother was dead. That his brother was estranged from him and his father.

He didn't even mind that much when she decided to leave with her friends rather than him. That was okay because she had already given him her phone number…

Never having been in a position to follow any kind of dating rules before, he didn't _bother_ following them now – and instead called her the very next day. She hadn't been expecting it, but was pleasantly surprised. He took her for ice cream and a walk, wondering briefly if he was actually turning into Sammy.

And all he got for his efforts was a first date kiss.

The next night he took her for dinner, surprised to find that they still had things they could talk about with each other. Surprised to find that he was still as interested in what she had to say as he had been the first night.

She took him back to her single dorm room that night. Dean felt strange as they walked hand in hand down the hall to her room, wondering if he would have gone to college if his life had been different. She opened the door, and Dean quickly followed her in. She flipped the lamp on her desk on, only slightly illuminating the room. Turning on her radio to a jazz station – odd to Dean's classical rock-trained ears – she walked back to where he was standing, almost _nervous_, in the middle of the room.

Cassie smiled up at him, pulling his head down for a feather-light kiss. Dean's heart started thumping like it was his first time. The kiss deepened, and he walked her back to her bed. Gently lowering her down, he rested his body weight on her just enough to _feel_ every inch of her. It wasn't long before hands were under shirts, and breath was coming hard and fast.

It had never felt this way for Dean before. He wondered if there was any truth to the idea of it being better when you're with someone you actually care about…because it's not like it was ever _bad_ before… His heart was close to bursting, his body on fire, and it felt like they couldn't get close enough.

And it didn't even bother him _that_ much when she stopped him a little while later, telling him she wasn't ready just yet. He was content to gather her in his arms and spoon behind her, kissing her shoulder softly and rubbing her arm. For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester _slept_ with a girl.

* * *

A couple days later, John left town on his way to another hunt. Dean was allowed to stay behind, with the understanding that, when he was needed, he was to come.

Feeling _free_, Dean slipped into the lecture hall where Cassie was finishing a class, and he took a seat in the back. He surreptitiously glanced around the room, watching kids take notes – and watching some try not to fall asleep, their heads rolling back and forth like their necks were rubber. Dean wondered briefly what kind of classes Sammy was taking, automatically knowing that his brother would be one of the students sitting in the front of the class, actively participating and asking questions. Sam always was good at asking questions…

Dean wondered what kind of student _he _would have been…

The professor dismissed the class, snapping Dean out of his reverie. He slouched in his chair, watching students stroll past him on their way out – obviously glad it was Friday. His eyes immediately picked out Cassie, climbing the stairs and talking to a couple friends. His heart swelled at the sight of her, and jealousy surged when he saw one of the friends she was talking to was a good-looking guy.

Dean had never felt jealousy over a girl before… Cars, sure. Weapons, once in a while. But girls? Not when there was another one just around the corner.

He clamped down on the feeling, reminding himself that _he_ was the one who had been sleeping in Cassie's bedroom the last couple nights. Dean pasted a smile on his face, waiting for her to notice him. When she did, her eyes widened and her mouth stretched into a matching grin. As she introduced him to her friends, Dean smirked at the look of obvious jealousy that crossed the other man's face.

_That's right, buddy…Keep dreaming._

* * *

That night in her dorm room, things heated up quickly. They had been going further and further each night, and Dean knew it was only a matter of time. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't weird that he was starting to consider the idea of them being together as the _beginning_ of something, rather than his end goal.

Tonight, she had barely been able to keep her hands off him at dinner. One hand rested on his thigh under the table, and she had slipped her foot out of her sandal to rub it along his leg. The looks she was giving him made it very _difficult_ to sit there and eat, and with a smirk to show he wasn't completely serious, he whispered that she was such a tease.

She smirked back and slid closer to him. Dean dropped his fork, and his mouth went dry as she whispered – in detail – what she was going to do to him that night, finishing the speech by gently tugging on his earlobe with her teeth.

He called for the check.

Now, she was wriggling underneath him, and clothes were being shed as if they were air. When he finally entered her, getting what he _thought_ he was going to get that first night, it was better than he could have imagined. Their eyes met the entire time, and Dean admitted it really _was_ better when you cared about the person.

* * *

The next couple weeks were like a blur to Dean. The times he spent with Cassie – whether they were alone in her room or whether they were out in public – went by too fast, and the times she was at class went by excruciatingly slow.

When they were alone in her room, though, were the times he truly let his guard down. The cockiness melted away. The devil-may-care attitude belonged to a different Dean. This Dean, meanwhile, started talking about the future. This Dean danced, swaying softly to the music with Cassie in his arms. This Dean whispered into her ear that he loved her. This Dean felt like maybe, just maybe, there was more in the cards for him than he previously thought – especially when she whispered that she loved him back.

As, lately, Cassie had been the only one that called him, Dean almost answered his phone with a "Hey, Babe," but luckily checked the screen first. His stomach dropped, and he felt nauseous.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Dean. Listen, I'm in Michigan right now, and I need you to come join me. There's a pretty nasty beast here; it's killed quite a lot of people so far. Do you got a pen? I'll give you the directions."

Dean was numb as he wrote down the coordinates his Dad gave him. Hanging up without a response to John's question of what his ETA might be, he flopped back against Cassie's headboard. Earlier that week, they had decided it was pointless for him to continue paying for a motel. So he had been hanging out in her room whenever she had class. The RA thought he was cute, so they hadn't gotten into any trouble.

For the first time in his life, Dean truly contemplated ignoring his Dad's orders.

* * *

Dean's duffel bag was already packed when Cassie let herself into the room after class. Coming up behind him, she snaked her arms around his waist and kissed his back.

"Hey, sexy."

Dean grabbed her hands and held them as he turned to face her. Leading her over to the bed, he sat them both down.

"Listen, Cassie. I'm sorry to do this, but my dad called. I have to leave."

Cassie stared at him, shock and pain written on her face. "What?"

"I'm _sorry_." He stressed, squeezing her hand at the same time.

"When will you be back?"

Dean grimaced, unsure of how to answer that question. Sure, every now and then, John would let him take time off, or they'd settle down somewhere for a couple months at a time. But there was no way of telling when those times would be.

"I don't know."

Cassie stood, running a hand through her hair. "What's going on, Dean? What aren't you telling me?"

Dean sighed, turning to stare out her window for a second, one hand covering his mouth. He wondered when it got so easy for her to read him. The same argument that had been running through his brain ever since his dad called started up again. _Should he tell her the truth?_ It was one of Dad's cardinal rules not to do so, but Dean couldn't stand the pain in her eyes as she looked at him. _Maybe if she knows the truth, she'll understand why I have to leave…Maybe she'll be willing to wait until I can come back…_

"Sit down, Cassie." His heart clenched when she sat in the desk chair instead of next to him. "I haven't been telling you the absolute truth. My Dad and I… we…uh…we hunt _things_."

She looked at him, even more confused than before. And starting to look a little angry. "What do you mean?"

"We hunt _supernatural_ things. Ghosts, monsters, demons. Things like that." The words came out in a rush. He couldn't look at her, not wanting to see how she reacted to his words. "We have ever since I was little, when a demon killed my mom."

He finally looked at her when she stood up quickly. The anger and hurt on her face caused him to flinch and wonder if he had done the right thing in telling her.

"Are you serious?" She asked, incredulous.

"I'm telling the truth. My dad has wind of something bad in Michigan; that's why he called me."

She continued to stare at him. "You're insane…"

Dean shook his head, opening his mouth to try to explain in a different way, a way that she could understand. She stopped him though by holding up a hand. Pointing to the door, she avoided his eyes.

"Get out, Dean." When he didn't move, she picked up his duffel bag and threw it at him. "Get out. I never want to see you again." He caught the bag against his chest with a thunk, telling himself that that was the reason it hurt to breathe.

I think that the story is still not showing up in the list of new stories/ chapters. Does anyone have any idea why? Maybe that's why there aren't a lot of reviews?

In other words, please please please review. Just so I know someone besides NothingButSarah is reading (not that I don't appreciate her!:) ) It really does inspire me to write more, more often!


	6. Chapter 6

Yay! Thanks to deangirl1 for pointing the rating thing out to me. I didn't know that. Hopefully, that's all cleared up now! In honor of that, here's the next chapter:

_Chapter 6 – Though my mind could think I still was a mad man_

Dean was still sitting on the porch, lost in his memories, a couple hours later. Sam wasn't back with Maia yet, and Dean suspected they stopped along the way for some _alone time_ before coming back to a house full of people. Not that he could blame them…

Bobby had long since gone to bed, saying he was too old to burn the midnight oil with the youngsters. Jo and Emilia were still on the couch, ostensibly watching Letterman but in actuality engaging in the age-old female tradition of gossip.

Jo had been gushing about her boyfriend, Mike, but was secretly waiting for her turn to switch the topic to Emilia's love life. Stopping to take a drink of water, Jo waited until Emilia turned her eyes to the TV for a second.

"Soo…." Jo said, putting the cup down on the coffee table. "How long have you been in love with Dean Winchester?"

"What?" Emilia gasped, looking as if she was about to try and deny it, but the heat rising in her face told her it was pointless to attempt it. "I'm – I'm not in love with Dean."

Jo looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I've seen the way you two look at each other."

"I'm not."

The look remained.

"Anymore."

"Ha!" Jo barked. "Tell me another one, why don't you?" Jo hit the couch cushion between the two girls. "Seriously, though. What's going on with you two?"

"Are you sure you don't mind? You said earlier you had a thing for him at one time."

"Of course not. Come on now, if I decided I couldn't be friends with any girl that slept with Dean Winchester, then I'd have very few…" The joke died on Jo's lips at the look on the other girl's face. "Sorry. I guess it's not quite so funny when you're on that side of things."

"No, no… It's okay. I've come to terms with the idea that I was just one of Dean's many conquests." Emilia said resolutely.

Jo smirked at Emilia. "I don't think you are."

"What?"

"You heard what I said earlier – I've seen the way you _both_ look at each other. I think it's pretty clear you mean more to Dean than you think you do."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. You can't see it because he never looks at you when you're looking at him. But there's a longing there. A softness. A look I would have killed to see directed at me at one point."

"Come on now. You know as well as I do that "Dean Winchester _doesn't_ date.""

Jo smiled and elbowed Emilia. "We'll have to see about that."

The girls lapsed into silence, with Jo watching the show for awhile and Emilia lost in her – at the moment, very confusing – thoughts. The blush remained on her cheeks and her heart started to flutter just a little bit as she glanced quickly in the direction of the front door. She had been able to see Dean out the window all night, sitting on the step and looking out into the darkness like the answer to the meaning of life was out in the shadows in front of him.

She gave herself a brief shake, telling herself to stop wishing. She had wasted a year of her life hoping that Dean would call, that he would come back into her life and sweep her into his arms with apologies and heartfelt expressions of love. That was _not_ going to happen, even if they were stuck in the same house. He had made that abundantly clear, so she had done the only thing that she could think of to save some face – lie about being over him.

* * *

Dean grinned and stood when Sam pulled Bobby's truck into the yard. Maia jumped out of the cab and ran to him for a hug. "Hi Dean."

"Hey, Maia. I'm glad you could come out. Sam's been ecstatic all day."

The girl turned to grin at her boyfriend. "He has, has he?" Sam walked up to her with a smile, carrying her suitcase in one hand and throwing his other arm around her shoulders.

Sam shrugged sheepishly, then nodded toward the house. "Let's go in; you can meet the others."

"Bobby's in bed." Dean said.

"Well, then you can _quietly_ meet the girls."

The happy couple led the way in, with Dean dragging his feet behind them. The two female hunters immediately stopped talking, looking at the Winchesters and Maia with guilty, embarrassed faces. Dean couldn't help feeling a little bit of fear at the sight…

"Hey, you two, this is Maia. Maia, this is Jo and Emilia." The three girls waved at each other with tentatively friendly smiles.

After a brief conversation on how Maia's flight went, Sam suggested they retire so she could get some sleep. Dean snorted at that, earning a punch in the shoulder from Sam. When Maia found out that Emilia was giving up her room for them, she started to protest but stopped at Em's insistence.

After the two of them went upstairs, Dean looked at the two remaining girls, who were in turn looking back at him. Unsure of what to say, Dean retreated to the bathroom to brush the taste of beer out of his mouth. He sighed in relief to find the lights out and the TV off when he returned to the living room area. Peeling off his shirt, he decided to keep the jeans on, even if it would be less comfortable to sleep like that. Sliding into the sleeping bag, he avoided looking over at the bag that had been Sam's and now encased a different dark-haired person.

"Good night, Dean." Jo whispered.

"Night, Jo…Emilia."

Silence…then a soft, "Good night."

Despite being tired – not to mention drowsy from the alcohol he had consumed – Dean couldn't fall asleep for a long time. His whole body tingled. She was close enough to reach out and touch…to embrace. And it was killing him. He was aware of every move she made in an effort to get comfortable on the hard floor, and he wished he could offer himself as a pillow. He was aware of every small sound she made, remembering the different kinds of sounds he had heard her make…caused her to make. The scent of her filled his nostrils. His body ached for her. She was so close, and yet still so far away. He turned onto his side, away from her, and stifled a groan by biting his pillow.

He had no idea she was feeling the same way just a few short feet away.


	7. Chapter 7

Yay for reviews! Thanks everyone!

_Chapter 7 – I hear the voices when I'm dreaming_

_

* * *

_

Dean was in excruciating pain. He had never felt so miserable in his life.

_Screams echoed around him. He could hear others sobbing, begging for release. He clenched his teeth to block the sob that rose in his own mouth, knowing it was only a matter of time before he joined them in their cries._

_Worse than the pain, the fear, the curiosity about what was happening to those around him … was the despair. The knowledge that this would NEVER end. That he would suffer for the rest of eternity._

_He fell to his knees, short gasps jerking his body. Dean had no strength left in his body, and dropped even further to all fours. Darkness surrounded him. His senses couldn't tell him if he was all alone – or if the screams were actually coming from someone right next to him. He had no way of orienting himself, no way of knowing what was up or down, where he was, if he actually _was_ anywhere…_

_He had no recollection of how long he'd been there, and often reminded himself that it didn't really matter, as it's not like he was counting down time until it was over. It was never going to be over._

_Dean wondered briefly if this was what his father had felt, or if hell was different for everybody. He wondered if his father was there somewhere, or if he had gone …somewhere else… after having climbed his way out of hell. A small, ashamed part of him hoped that his father wasn't "somewhere else" – the mere idea of there being a heaven that he would never get to experience hurt more than anything else. This evil thought and the guilt for even thinking it followed on each other's heels in a never-ending cycle._

_Dean whispered to himself over and over again that it was worth it, that Sammy was alive because of him, that he'd do it all over again – even now that he knew what hell was like. He tried to picture Sam in his head, tried to picture him smiling, but couldn't fight the small spark of anger … of regret._

_Dean wondered how long it would be until that regret turned into resentment. How long before he started blaming Sammy, how long before he started to hate him. _

_And, after that, how long before he would forget what it's like to love, what it's like to be human._

_How long before he became one of the things he hunted…_

_Dean squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself that he was stronger than that. He wouldn't become a demon. He just wouldn't…_

_A soft chuckle reached his ears, almost too quiet to be heard under the screams that bombarded him. He opened his eyes wide, searching the blackness before him for the source of the laugh._

_He never saw the demon that made it, but he felt it when it kneeled next to him and stroked his cheek. "Oh, poor little Dean." The demon – he knew it was the one that had possessed Meg, had possessed Sam._

"_Dean..." it whispered in his ear. "Is this the _worst_ that your brain can come up with for hell? Pathetic. You don't have the imagination to come up with what hell is _really_ like... But don't worry. Pretty soon, you won't have to imagine it…"_

* * *

Dean sat up straight, going from asleep to awake instantaneously. He couldn't prevent a strangled gasp from escaping his throat, as part of his brain still felt like it was in hell. Breathing hard, he didn't realize right away that Em was sitting next to him, hand on his shoulder and eyes wide with concern. When he did, he had to fight the urge to throw his arms around her and bury his face into her shoulder.

"Dean…" she whispered. "It's just a dream. You're okay. You're safe."

He let out a quiet, wry chuckle, trying not to wake Jo too. "Not really…but thanks." He met her eyes, hoping she didn't realize she was still touching his shoulder and pull away. Her eyes were bright and expressive as they looked back at him, and he felt that, for the first time since they had been reunited, he was able to actually look at her. The darkness emboldened him.

It must have done the same for her, as her hand drifted down from his shoulder around to his back, half-embracing him. In turn, his hand moved of its own accord to her waist, relishing in the smooth feel of her cotton tank-top. Their eyes were wide open and staring at each other the entire, excruciatingly long time it took for their heads to travel closer together. Dean's eyes finally fluttered close the split second before his lips met hers.

He had almost forgotten how good she tasted…

Em's soft whimper was enough to inspire him to deepen the kiss. He laid back, pulling her along with him. Both hands were on her now, exploring the territory he still considered to be his. Dean rolled them over so she was on her back, his arm cradling her head.

_Oh, God. I could die happy right now. _

_But what about her? How is she going to feel when I do die? _

_This isn't fair to her…_

Dean pulled himself away from Emilia, berating himself for his weakness when he saw the dazed look of lust on her face.

_Why not? Why not have one last time with her before the end? Shouldn't I get to have something good to remember when I'm in hell…_

_No…I can't do this. I can't _use_ her. Not her. _

The lust in her eyes changed to sadness as Dean pulled even further away and sat up. He ran a hand over his head, and avoided looking at her. He let out the breath he was holding, and reached out for the shirt he had taken off earlier. He pulled it on, ignoring the disappointment and hurt he could _feel_ coming from her.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I-I can't do this."

Dean stood, grabbed the keys to Bobby's truck and left the house without a backwards glance. He was already in the truck and driving before his head cleared and his heart slowed its pounding. He didn't know what to do; he just knew he couldn't stay there. He didn't have the willpower to keep his hands off her.

Glancing at the clock, he realized he must have dreamed early in the night, because there was still a brief window of opportunity to get a drink before bar time. Pressing the accelerator down, he drove to the nearest bar, not paying attention to the fortunately empty road.

Putting the truck in park, Dean practically ran inside, ordered a shot and downed it, wincing at the burning pleasure it brought. Slamming the glass down on the bar, he gestured at the bartender for another.

* * *

For the first time in a year, Dean was having sex with a brunette. She had some freaky tastes too… he didn't even have to be the one that initiated their contact - didn't even have to buy her a drink, for that matter.

She took him out to the alley behind the bar, lips and hands attacking him before the door even closed. At first he just stood there, letting it happen, not participating. Guilt and shame flowed through him. He knew this was destroying any chance he could have had with Emilia. She'd never forgive him if she found out. She'd never let him touch her again.

He contemplated telling her himself.

His body was beginning to react, clouding his thoughts but not doing much for the ache in his heart. He closed his eyes, imagining it was _her_ lips and mouth tasting him, nipping at him. Her hands down his pants. Her body pressed up against him.

Dean growled, flipping the girl around so she was up against the brick wall instead of him. He was rough, but she didn't seem to mind.

He bit his lip when it ended, preferring to draw blood than to call out _her_ name.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8 – Masquerading as a man with a reason_

The other young people were in the kitchen when Dean let himself back into Bobby's house the next morning. He was tired, hungover … and upset with himself. Emilia tried to catch his eye, but he avoided her gaze, instead grabbing a cup of coffee and not saying anything to anybody.

Sam was still in his good mood, arms wrapped around Maia, who was sitting on his lap – despite the fact that there were more than enough chairs for everybody. The younger Winchester did manage to tear his eyes away from his girlfriend long enough to notice Dean's state.

"Did you go out last night, Dean?" Sam's voice was tinged with anger, and a little disbelief that his brother would just throw away his chance at a girl that Sam knew he cared about.

"Get off my back, Sammy." The weariness in Dean's voice wasn't completely because of his lack of sleep from the night before.

Sam was running out of patience. They didn't have the time for him to just let things go anymore. "Dammit, Dean. Don't you think we have better things to do right now?"

Dean shot Sam his cocky grin. "Nope," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Maia, who had heard all about Sam and Dean's troubles the last couple of weeks but knew nothing about his past with Emilia, asked what they were all thinking – and what Emilia was hoping to not have to hear. "Did you at least get her name?"

Dean cleared his throat, preparing himself to have to hurt her…again. He knew, though, that it was the only way to ensure he didn't hurt her even more. "Nope."

He didn't have to look at her to know that she looked like she had been hit.

Dean stood, heading toward the door he just entered. He couldn't breathe. He needed to get outside…get away… The door slammed shut behind him.

Sam sat stock still for a second, a stern, unreadable expression on his face. Then, lifting Maia off his lap, he followed Dean out. The girls watched him go, soon seeing the brothers out the window, engaged in a heated conversation. They looked at each other in alarm. Obviously, the Winchesters didn't get along _all_ the time, but it was still startling to see them fight so intensely.

"OK. What the hell is going on with those two?" Jo asked.

Maia turned her attention away from the scene to look at the others with a shocked expression on her face. "You mean you don't know? I figured you knew."

"Know _what_?" Jo threw up her hands in frustration. Emilia, meanwhile, was listening to the conversation but her eyes were focused on the counter in front of her. She looked as numb as she felt.

"About…"

"Maia." Bobby entered the room, hanging up the phone he had been talking on, and immediately interrupted Maia before she could answer Jo's question. "Dean doesn't want … oh my God."

Bobby turned on his heel and went for the door. The girls forgot their conversation and jumped to look out the window. Sam was on the ground, holding his jaw, while Dean was storming away toward the Impala.

* * *

"Dean! Dean!" Sam called out, his longer legs quickly eating up the space separating them. "Wait up."

Dean stopped, sighing and turning around to let his brother catch up. "What?"

"Seriously, man. You've _got_ to stop this! You're self-destructing."

"I am _fine_, Sam."

"No. You're not."

"Well, what do you want me to do, Sammy? What can I do?" Dean averted his eyes, trying to fight the anger that was rising in him. He didn't want to take it out on his brother, but he knew he would have to find a release for it sooner or later.

"You can at least admit to me that it's _bothering_ you."

"Of _course,_ it's bothering me, Sam. I told you before, I don't _want_ to die."

Sam gripped his brother's shoulders, tears springing into his eyes. "Then why did you do it, Dean?"

Dean felt like he was sucker punched. "How could you ask me that?" He whispered.

"Why won't you at least let me _try_ to stop it?"

"There's no way to stop it, Sammy. Just let it go."

"How do you _know_ that? You don't. And you know what? I don't think you do want to live. I think you _want _to die." Sam dropped his hands from Dean's shoulders. "My God, could you be any more selfish?"

Dean clenched his jaw. The anger rose up in him, and his fist was flying forward before he could stop himself. He stormed away, the roaring in his ears blocking out everything else.

* * *

Bobby walked Sam back into his house. The girls were still in the kitchen, Maia with an ice pack. He sucked in air through his teeth as she held it to his face. Sitting down, he took it from her hands and held it himself.

"What happened?" Maia asked.

Sam didn't look at her – instead he made eye contact with Bobby, silently apologizing to the older hunter since, at the moment, he couldn't to his brother. "I accused him of being selfish."

Bobby stared at him for a second, before shaking his head. "I oughta hit you myself, boy."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me that. Go find Dean and tell him."

"I don't think he'd listen to me right now, if I did." Sam lowered the ice pack to give himself room to rub his forehead in frustration. "I just don't know what to do anymore – how to get through to him."

"Look, Sam. I'm not saying you shouldn't try to find a way out of this for him. But, while you're doing it, maybe you should just leave him alone. It's what he seems to want. Have enough respect for him to at least give him that."

Sam looked up at the older hunter, offended. "I _respect_ him, Bobby. I just still can't understand why he did what he did."

"It's not like I don't think it wasn't the stupidest thing in a _long_ line of stupid things that boy has done…no offense… But it is understandable." Bobby sighed. "Dean has given up _everything_ for you since you were 6 months old Sam. I mean, do you _honestly_ think he's never wanted anything for himself? Never wanted more? Of course, he has. But those dreams always came second to yours."

"I know, Bobby," Sam said softly. "And that's why I have to do this for him."

Jo slammed her hand down on the table. "Do _what?"_

Bobby and Sam caught each other's eyes. They knew it was only a matter of time before the girls found out the truth, despite Dean's wishes. For now, though, it was Bobby who looked like he wanted to tell them and Sam who knew it wasn't the right time to disrespect his brother anymore. He subtly shook his head at the older hunter, who hesitated, then nodded in response.

"It's between me and Dean, Jo. Sorry. Just let it go…"

Jo looked like she could kill something, and left the room mumbling under her breath about "stupid boys who think they always know better than everyone else."

Maia went back to nursing Sam, so no one really noticed when Emilia slid off her chair and quietly went outside.

* * *

"Selfish? Selfish! What more does he _want_ from me?" Dean was grumbling to himself, head under his baby's head but eyes not seeing the engine before him.

And definitely not seeing the woman walking up behind him.

"How big of a jackass are you?" Dean jumped, almost hitting his head against the hood. He whipped around to face Emilia, a hint of fear running through him. He held his wrench in front of him, almost like a weapon. Dean knew he would have to deal with her…with last night…eventually. But he didn't want it to be _now._

"What?"

Emilia waved her hand in dismissal. "I'm not even talking about you and me. _Believe me_, I know I should have known better. I'm talking about you and Sam. All he is is concerned about you, and you go and punch him?"

"That's between him and me, Em. You don't know the whole story."

"You're right, I don't. And you know what? I don't want to. I'm tired of this."

Dean gave her an almost woeful smirk. "I thought you said this wasn't about you and me."

"It's – it's not…" Emilia shied away from his gaze. She started to bolt, but then turned back, anger darkening her face. "OK, it is. What the hell, Dean? What am I – some object you can just reach for and throw away whenever you want? Because apparently I'm not good enough for you to even _want_ to have _sex_ with anymore, much less anything else."

Dean hardened his heart, telling himself it was not breaking. He had to say this – had to finish what he started in pushing her away from him. He couldn't stay away from her, so he had to make sure she wanted nothing more to do with him. He forced a sneer to his face.

"Pretty much, sweetheart. Look, I told you before, I don't want a relationship. Last night…you were a warm body. And I ended it because I don't want to have to deal with you getting the wrong idea _again_."

Emilia looked wounded, but she too put a tight rein on her emotions. Resolutely, she stomped closer to him and pointed a finger into Dean's chest. "Well, you don't have to worry about that _anymore_, Dean. Stay the hell away from me, and keep your filthy hands to yourself. You are the _last_ person I ever want to be in a relationship with."

Stalking away from him, she turned to fire one last shot. "You aren't even worth it."


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9 – My charade is the event of the season_

* * *

"_You aren't even worth it." _Emilia's words rang in Dean's ears as he bent over the Impala, almost in physical pain. They started to mix with the other voices that had been screaming at him.

"_Keep your gutter soul – it's too tarnished anyway."_

"_Pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive…"_

His breath started to come in short gasps. The gasps were starting to verge on sobs, but Dean still had enough control over himself to prevent that from happening. Dean Winchester did _not_ cry. By God, if it was the last thing he did, he would not cry.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice was soft, questioning, concerned. Dean swallowed the next gasp, building himself up before turning around.

He didn't think he had fooled the older hunter.

"How are you doing?"

"M'fine, Bobby."

"You know Sam didn't mean it."

Dean looked away, not denying Bobby's statement but not agreeing with it either. "I can't just sit here anymore, Bobby. I'm going out of my freakin' mind. I have to do _something._"

Bobby nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, I got a call this morning from an old friend, offering me a case – _something's _killing people in his town, and the police can't seem to figure it out." Dean and Bobby shared a grin at the ineptitude of local law enforcement. "I turned him down because of everybody being here, but if you want, I can call him back and tell him you'll take it."

Dean grabbed onto the idea like it was a lifeline. His eyes lit up at the thought of hunting. "That would be great."

"Fine. You can take one of the cars, and I'll even work on the Impala for you while you're gone."

"Thanks, Bobby. I…really appreciate it."

"No problem. But you have to do one thing for me."

"Anything."

"Let Sam stay here. You know he wants to research a way out. Let him do that for you."

Dean clenched his jaw, but acquiesced. "Fine. It's probably better if we took a little bit of time apart, anyway."

"Good."

Bobby started to walk away. "Actually…why don't you take Emilia with you? It's about time she put some of her skills into practice in the field."

Bobby went into the house to call his friend back, leaving Dean to look after him with a sick expression on his face, feeling as if Bobby had yanked the lifeline right back out of his hands…

* * *

"What? No! Bobby, I don't think that's a good idea. I'm – I'm not ready…"

"Sure you are, Em. And don't worry, you know Dean won't let anything happen to you."

Jo, who had not yet heard from her new friend about the changes to the relationship, was nodding excitedly behind the older hunter's back. She obviously thought it would be a _great_ idea for the erstwhile lovers to spend some time together alone. Emilia, meanwhile, gave her a pointed glare back.

"I'll go call Aaron." Bobby said, leaving the room.

The second he was out of the living room, Jo leaned forward to whisper. "What are you doing? This will be perfect – you guys will have some time to talk!"

"We don't need time to talk, Jo. It's not going to happen."

"Why _not_? Despite popular opinion, Dean is actually a great guy. And you're a great girl! You guys should be together!"

Emilia sighed. "You know, I almost wish you weren't over Dean and with Mike – then I could say "why don't you date him, then?""

Jo grinned back, her matchmaking spirit unwilling to give up. "Come on, let's go pack you some sexy fighting clothes!"

The girls came back downstairs about 10 minutes later, Emilia carrying a duffel bag and looking unhappy. Jo, meanwhile, looked very pleased with herself. They found Maia and Bobby sitting on the couch. Maia cocked her head to the kitchen door.

"Sam and Dean are in there, making up. He'll be out for you soon, Emilia."

Em nodded, trying to appear less nervous and nauseous. They sat down to wait with the others.

A few minutes later, Dean left the kitchen followed by Sam. Dean reached out and grabbed the keys Bobby held up for him. "Let's go." He said to Emilia, his voice dull and quiet. They were almost out the door when Sam called out.

"I'll find something, Dean. I promise."

Dean looked back at his brother, hope warring with pessimism. He surprised everyone in the room when he walked quickly back to Sam and pulled him forward into a tight hug. "I love you, Sammy," he said gruffly, the emotion in his voice causing Maia to tear up.

"I love you too, Dean."

Dean smiled, pounding Sam on the back before walking back to the front door, avoiding eye contact with everyone else, apparently ashamed at letting his emotions get the best of him in front of other people.

* * *

_Five minutes earlier_

Dean entered the kitchen, glancing quickly at Bobby and Maia. "Can I have a word with Sam?"

The other two left, leaving the Winchesters to stare at each other. Sam lowered the ice pack that he still held to his jaw, and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Sammy."

"No, Dean. I'm sorry. I deserved to get hit. That…was a horrible thing to say." Sam's voice choked up with emotion. "I'm just…getting frustrated. I don't know how to help you, and we're running out of time."

He sighed. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Not on you, of all people!"

Dean sighed in response, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down. "I know I'm taking it out on you too. Hell, I'm taking it out on everybody!"

The older Winchester leaned forward, resting his forehead in both hands. He directed his next comment at the table, causing Sam to lean forward and strain to hear him clearly. "And you're wrong, Sammy. I don't want to die. I may act like I don't care, but I do. I'm…scared."

Dean looked up, a fierce gleam in his eye. "But I _don't_ regret it, Sammy. And I won't let you _make_ me regret it. No matter what you do."

Sam softly chuckled. "OK. But I won't stop looking for a way out. No matter what _you_ do."

Dean grinned. "OK." He stood up, running his hands against his jeans. "I've had enough chick flick moments today. Time to go kill something."

Sam's chuckle exploded into a full laugh, as he shook his head. "Good luck. With the ghost _and_ the girl."

Dean gave Sam a look, and led the way out of the kitchen, ignoring his brother's chuckling.

* * *

The only sound in the loaner car from Bobby was music. Neither had said a word in the 20 minutes they had been driving. Dean felt weird traveling the highway in something other than his baby. They were only going about two hours away – not quite as far as Dean was hoping to go, but he'd take what he could get.

The lack of conversation was getting to him. Odd how he and Sam could go for hours without talking, but with her, he was so in tune with _everything_ she did, that he couldn't help but think of a million different things he wanted to say.

He mentally swore at Bobby.

Emilia spent the drive so far by looking out the passenger window, head turned as far away from Dean as it was comfortable to go. Not that Dean was complaining – this way she didn't notice when his eyes slid over to watch her instead of the road in front of him. He figured surreptitious glances were the only way he'd be able to get a look at her now, after her words this morning.

Sitting in the enclosed area with her was almost too much for Dean to bear. _How sad is it that I'm more turned on right now than the entire time I was in the alley with what's her name? My God, we're not even touching…_

Dean squirmed in his seat, telling himself that the only reason he was so turned on was because he knew he couldn't have her. The thrill of the chase and all that… He cleared his throat, and rested his left arm against the windowsill, so he could cradle the side of his head with his hand. He forced himself to think about old, wrinkly women and dead bodies, trying to get his own body under control.

At the sound of him clearing his throat, Emilia finally turned to look at him. "So…do you know anything more about this case?"

Dean glanced over at her before shifting his focus back to the road. "No. Bobby's friend will fill us in when we get there."

"OK."

"Ground rules. You do _what_ I say _when _I say it. And no questions. Got it?"

Emilia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"_Got it?_"

"Got it."


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10 – And if I claim to be a wise man_

"Huh."

Emilia turned to look at Dean. "What?"

He pointed at the sign they were driving past. "Fort Thompson. It didn't occur to me before now. Bobby just gave me the directions. He didn't tell me the name of the town."

"What about it?"

"We lived here for a couple months when I was 19…" Dean trailed off, a slight smile playing on his lips. Emilia almost smiled in response, forgetting for a second that she was trying not to care about him.

"It's actually where I finally graduated." He added with a wink, but the smile faded on his face as he remembered that he didn't have the right to joke with her anymore.

Following the directions Bobby had given, Dean was surprised when they led him to a small church. "Interesting…"

Dean and Emilia got out of the car, slamming their doors shut simultaneously. Sharing a glance, Dean led the way to the door. Opening it slowly, he was relieved to see there were no services or people praying. It always made him feel uncomfortable to interrupt people in the midst of communing with God. Not the least because he was still questioning whether he had faith, after the incident with Father Reynolds.

Walking toward the altar, Dean looked around for someone to help them. Fortunately, a man probably about 10 years older than Dean came into the sanctuary from a door hidden in the woodwork at the side.

"Hello. I'm Father Aaron. You must be Dean?"

Dean smiled, extending his hand to shake the priest's. "Yes, sir."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you and your brother."

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking slightly uncomfortable. "From Bobby?"

"Yes – and from Pastor Jim. We knew each other quite well." The clergyman looked upset - probably, like Dean, thinking of the gruesome death the other man had faced.

Dean stepped aside to gesture at Emilia. "This is Emilia Dawson. Bobby is training her right now. He thought it would be a good idea to give her some real-world experience with this case."

The priest smiled and shook Emilia's hand as well, then indicated they should follow him back through the door he entered, which they learned led to the priest's office. Father Aaron sat behind his desk, pointing to the two chairs sitting in front of it. Dean grabbed one and pulled it as far from the other one as he could without being too obvious that he was trying to put distance between the two.

"Did Bobby tell you anything about what's been happening here?"

"Not really – he just said people were dying."

"Yes, namely my parishioners. It started about a week ago, and so far three people have already died. At first the police thought it was suicide. Now they're not so sure, since everyone seems to be connected to the church. But they can't find a motive – or even a consistent cause of death."

"How have the people been dying?" Maia asked.

"Mrs. Alderly – she was the first – bled to death from slit wrists. Jake Burns shot himself. And Chris David OD'ed on sleeping pills and wine."

"So what makes _you_ so sure it wasn't suicide?" Dean questioned, tilting his head to the side.

Father Aaron shook his head. "Honestly, at first, I did think it was. But I was shocked by it because, not only did those three have pretty good lives, they were also very devout. Suicide is a sin in this religion – and they didn't even come to confession beforehand."

"OK. So what do you think it is?"

Father Aaron sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I'm not exactly sure. The only real connection between them – besides being members here – is that they were also members of the building committee."

"Well, that's somewhere to start. Can we get the names of the other committee members?"

"Of course." The priest pulled a piece of scratch paper down and started to jot down names. He reached for the church directory, and handed it and the paper over to Dean. "If there's anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask. I want to get to the bottom of this, but I just don't have much experience with this kind of thing. I know what Bobby and Pastor Jim told me over the years – I just never went out in search of anything before."

"Don't worry, Father. That's what we're here for!" Dean said confidently, standing. The two hunters left, the priest watching them go with a hopeful expression on his face.

* * *

Emilia swallowed heavily as she followed Dean into the hotel room he had booked. She understood that money was tight. She understood that there were two beds. It still didn't change the fact that she was entering a hotel room with Dean Winchester in the middle of the afternoon like it was some kind of secret lovers' tryst.

He plopped his bag down on the bed closest to the door, dropping his body down next to it with a thud and a sigh. His eyes were closed, and Emilia took the opportunity to look at him. She longed to go over and lie down next to him, be held by him, touch him. She shook her head and turned away from him to look at her own bed. She was disgusted with herself, and mentally yelled at herself to snap out of it.

_How many times does he have to reject you before it sinks in? _

"So…" His voice startled her. She tilted her head toward him to acknowledge she was listening, but didn't turn around. "Is hunting everything you thought it would be?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, we're not really _hunting _yet. Just fact-finding."

"That's a lot of what hunting is."

"I know that. I'm not completely clueless. I did learn a lot from my brother, you know. Jake didn't want me to hunt, but he did want me to be able to protect myself if necessary. What Bobby is teaching me is more of the proactive stuff."

"So you're going against his wishes now?"

Emilia finally turned to look at him, sitting down on her own bed. "I understand that, as the older brother, you'll have a hard time with this concept – but older brothers don't always know what's best."

"Of course we do." Dean said with a grin, before adopting a serious expression and meeting her eyes for the first time since the fight. A tingle went through her at the searching look he gave her. "How did your brother die?"

Emilia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Uh…a run-in with a werewolf. About three years ago."

"Is that what made you decide to become a hunter?"

Emilia nodded. "I did start out as a teacher – in San Francisco, under my _real_ name" Dean smiled at the reference to their first meeting. "Then, after he died, I began to think more and more about what I was doing with my life and how I could do the most with it. I kept in contact with some of his hunting friends – the same ones who directed me to Bobby – and through them I heard about the possible ghost in Sacramento."

Emilia smiled a soft, sad smile. "I honestly didn't mean to lie to you during that. It all happened so fast, and before I knew it, it was too late to tell you the truth."

Dean didn't say anything in response. Emilia sighed, and continued her story. "Anyway, I stayed until the end of the school year because I wasn't going to leave the school and students in the lurch, even though the reason I took the job was no longer there. When the school year ended, I decided it was time to become a full-time hunter."

"Hmm." Dean laid back down, his eyes closed and thankfully no longer piercing her own. He was quiet for a long time, and Emilia thought their conversation was over. Unzipping her bag, she started to unpack the clothes and toiletries she brought with. Dean startled her by speaking again – softly, hesitantly.

"You know, I wasn't that mad at you for lying. I know I lied too. I understand why you didn't tell me."

"Then…why-?"

"Why did I say those things to you and leave? It's simple. I was beginning to contemplate a future with you. I knew that wasn't a good idea – some things had happened on a hunt we were on shortly before Sacramento, things that basically drove home the point that it wasn't a good idea for me to be in any kind of relationship."

During Dean's speech, Emilia's heart started to pound so hard she could _hear_ it. The traitorous hope she had been fighting ever since their argument started to rise up in her again. She couldn't stop herself from asking her next question, inwardly cringing at how strangled, how needy her voice sounded.

"So you …wanted a relationship then? But…not…now?"

Dean didn't answer. Didn't even _move_. Emilia was on her last emotional nerve, ready to go over there and start pounding on him until he _answered _her. She was about ready to scream, when he finally responded.

"Yes. There's even more of a reason now. I can say with absolute certainty that I don't want a relationship. Any relationship."

The hope in her heart died just as quickly as it had sprung up, and Emilia felt nauseous. "Oh."

The two sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Emilia was trying not to cry. If she had had the courage to look at Dean, she would have seen that he was swallowing quickly and repeatedly, obviously trying to regain control of his own emotions.

"I'm going to go take a shower…" Emilia informed Dean, quickly getting up and entering the bathroom, glad to have an excuse to escape from him before her disappointment overpowered her. Shortly after she had closed and locked the door behind her, Dean launched himself off the bed, grabbed the keys and also escaped the room.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11 – It surely means that I don't know_

It had been years since he had been in Fort Thompson, but Dean managed to drive to the high school almost on autopilot. Pulling into the student parking lot, Dean parked near the bleachers of the football field. A soft smile flitted across his face, as memories came flooding in. He and Sam had attended many, many schools while growing up, but this was his last one. He graduated a year later than he should have because of all the moves – it was about ten years ago, yet some of the memories were still fresh in his mind. Some of the regrets, too…

* * *

It was becoming second nature – being the new kid at school. It used to bother him. He used to be nervous, and would try to combat that by telling himself he faced far worse as a hunter than a bunch of stupid kids. He wasn't nervous about whether he'd be liked…ok, that was part of it, but mainly it was because he was so worried about following his Dad's rules: be average, don't make waves, don't make anyone question things. And never, ever talk about what we do.

Now, the nervousness, if it was there at all, was buried deep underneath the cool exterior. By 19, Dean was already well-equipped to display the devil-may-care attitude and bad boy persona that would remain his trademark. The teachers and administrators that saw him seemed to know immediately that this boy could be trouble.

They found it hard to believe when they learned he was related to the sweet, shy sophomore that followed him into the school.

Getting his schedule from the main office, Dean glanced at it. Auto/ Shop and Phy. Ed. – that he could handle. Chemistry may even come in useful someday with hunting. But, unfortunately, they weren't until after lunch. First up, English, then Math and Social Studies. Grimacing, Dean looked up at the room numbers near him, so he could figure out where to go. After awhile, he got pretty good at finding his way around a new school – they were all pretty much the same anyway…

Entering the classroom, Dean immediately took in the posters of celebrities trying to convince him to READ! _Yep…pretty much the same…_

The eyes of everybody in the room turned toward him, and conversation noticeably paused. Fort Thompson was a small enough town where a new student was still notable. Dean knew Sammy was probably experiencing the same thing in his first classroom, and was probably blushing and hurrying to take a seat in the back.

Dean sat in the middle of the classroom, next to the prettiest cheerleader he could see.

Flashing the girl his trademark grin, Dean was amused to watch her scoff, roll her eyes, and turn back to gossiping with her friends. A muscle-bound boy in a football jersey sitting on her other side leaned forward to glare at Dean. Dean chuckled. _Wow…this place is a walking cliché._

The teacher walked into the room and, after taking attendance, proceeded to do exactly what Dean knew she'd do – and what he _really_ wished she wouldn't do – asked him to "introduce himself."

"Dean Winchester." And that's all he said, fighting the smirk that wanted to explode as the teacher kept smiling at him, clearly waiting for him to say more. When she realized he wasn't, the smile faltered and she uncomfortably moved on to tell the students that they were now going to start reading Dracula, causing Dean to wonder again if vampires were really real…

The first couple weeks of school passed in a blur. Dean was doing enough to pass – he promised his Dad he would, so that he could start really hunting finally – but _just_ enough to pass. Sammy, of course, spent most of his waking hours at the library, being the model student and Geek Boy.

The rest of the student body had picked up on the fact that Dean wasn't going to be one of the golden, popular people. As such, the jocks, their girlfriends, and the academic types quickly learned to leave him alone. A couple of the fringe people were starting to befriend him, but Dean found his most relaxing times to be when he was in Auto/Shop class, underneath the hood of whatever car they were learning on that day.

Only a handful of students were in the class with him, but Dean was by far the best of them. The teacher loved him, always asking him to demonstrate for the rest of the students. It made Dean begin to wonder if this was what Sammy felt like _all_ the time in school.

And, he had to admit, it felt kind of good to be appreciated for something other than hunting…

So, pretty much the only thing that wasn't going his way at the school so far was his love life. Usually, he was able to find at least one girl within the first few weeks of being at a new school who was willing to "experiment" with the bad boy. Here, the girls seemed to be taking their cue from the cheerleader he sat next to on the first day, who wouldn't give him the time of day.

Her name was Nikki, and she wasn't just any cheerleader – she was the head cheerleader, dating the quarterback, straight-A student. Pretty much the type of person that was the _opposite_ of Dean.

Yet he couldn't get her out of his mind. He was sure it was the idea of the chase – she was the unattainable, and getting her would be his greatest accomplishment to date. Not that he had _that_ _many_ accomplishments yet….even if he bragged to Sammy differently.

He must have annoyed her, or caused a problem for her with No-Neck Quarterback, that first day because she'd been treating him like he was the plague ever since. But Dean wasn't counting his losses yet – she always seemed to blush a little bit when he walked into a room, always seemed to talk and laugh a little louder when he sat near her table at lunch, always was a little _too_ quick to look away when he caught her eye.

He figured it was only a matter of time…

"Dean?" Mr. Jackson, the Auto/Shop teacher, called out, and Dean pulled himself out from under the Taurus he was working on for extra credit.

"Yeah?"

"Listen, I don't know if you'd be interested in a part-time job, but my friend Bob owns a garage on Fourth. I was telling him about you, and he'd like to meet you."

Dean was shocked, having never really known what it was like for a teacher to take such a strong interest in him. Still, his first instinct was to say no – he didn't know when they'd have to leave. But then he reconsidered, thinking it might be nice to actually make money in a legal way for once. Dean smiled, planning to convince John that it was a good idea by saying that he could then learn enough to be able to fix the Impala if necessary.

"That sounds great."

"Good. I'll let him know you're going to stop by. What day should I tell him?"

"Uh…tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. I hope it works out for you, Dean!"

He watched the older teacher walk away, remembering belatedly to call out a thanks. A grin spread across Dean's face, as he maneuvered himself back into position under the car. Who would have thought that he'd ever have a job besides hunting?

With Mr. Jackson's recommendation, Dean easily got the job. He fell into the routine of having a job much quicker than he thought he would – and being an actual, respectable employee wasn't quite as horrifying as he thought it would be. Bob took a shine to him, teaching him new procedures that Mr. Jackson hadn't even approached in class yet. Things were starting to look up…

* * *

Dean hid himself under the bleachers, trying to block out the cheers and screams of the crowd, the annoying commentary of the announcer, the whistles of the referees and the thuds of the players throwing themselves at each other.

He could _not_ believe he was at a football game.

Sam had been invited to go along with a friend. He was so excited to actually be asked that he begged Dean to take him. Begged and whined and gave that pathetic puppy dog look of his – the one he knew Dean couldn't resist.

So here he was.

Sammy _owed_ him one.

It did, however, offer him an _excellent_ view of Nikki in her short little skirt, kicking her legs into the air and cheering for No-Neck and his friends. Dean had been making progress the last few weeks. Whispering jokes to her in English class about Dracula had netted him a few smiles, giving him the courage to start making jokes that were more ... suggestive... She responded in kind, giving him playful smirks and winks in the hallway, even when she was walking with an arm entwined with No-Neck's.

Noticing that the cheerleaders were heading off the sidelines and running toward the locker room, Dean realized it was time for their break before the halftime show. Nikki was the last to run off, getting a few last kicks and "air-punches" in before making her way back. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows with him.

She gasped, frightened at first. When she realized it was him, she gave him a seductive smirk, obviously thinking she was the one in control when it came to their relationship. Dean intended to finally prove her wrong that night.

"Dean Winchester, what _are_ you doing at a football game?"

"Well, who am I to argue with high school tradition?"

"I would have thought you'd argue with everything you could."

Dean smirked. "Well, you seem to be pretty much the embodiment of high school tradition. Doesn't that make you feel kind of…unoriginal?"

"I happen to like my life, thank you very much."

"I'm just saying it could be better."

"_Really? _And how is that?"

"Well," he drawled, backing her up until she was pressed against the cement wall. His body hovered near her, allowing limbs to lightly graze here and there but not quite touch. Her breath hitched in her throat. "You could always hook up with the Bad Boy instead of Mr. All-American out there."

Nikki scoffed. "I am _not_ going to cheat on Doug."

"Uh-huh." Dean whispered into her ear, one hand already running up her leg and under her short skirt. She gasped and whimpered, and Dean knew he had won. In a matter of a few breathless seconds, her tongue was down his throat, her hands were down his pants, and his hands were all over her body. A few minutes later, when Dean entered her, he didn't know what was hotter – the fact that he was actually having sex in public, or the fact that she was crying out his name when her boyfriend scored a touchdown.

* * *

Dean's self-satisfied smirk still graced his lips when he walked into the garage the next day.

"What's that look for?" teased Bob.

"Oh…nothing." Dean winked.

"Ah! Say no more." Bob rested against his work table, crossing his arms. "Well, how would you like something else to smile about?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow in curiosity and anticipation. "What?"

"Jake decided it was time to retire. How would you like to stay on after graduation? I'll pay for your tech school courses, and you can work the hours you do now until you get your Associate's."

Dean stared at Bob, jaw slack. "Wow…uh…thanks. I – I haven't really thought about what to do after graduation." Dean swallowed, longing fighting with duty in his heart. That was a lie – he had thought about what he'd do after graduation; he just didn't think he'd have much of a _choice_. Now, secret dreams of living in one place, having a normal life, raced through his head.

It's not that he didn't like hunting, or feel like it was something he was _meant_ to do. His mom deserved justice…his dad needed him.

But he also realized that this might be his only chance…

"Can I think about it?"

Bob looked surprised. "Well sure. I do think you'd be perfect for this."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Dean was wracked with indecision for the rest of the weekend. Every part of him that was loyalty and duty and destiny shouted at him, telling him there's no way he could do this.

But that didn't stop him from _wanting_ to.

* * *

He had something else to worry about Monday, though. No-Neck had apparently found out – an unfortunate consequence of sex in public. Before first hour, the quarterback very publicly and cruelly dumped Nikki. Everybody was talking about it at lunch, sneaking looks at Dean as they talked behind his back.

Before gym, in the locker room, No-Neck and a couple of his thug sidekicks came up to Dean, slamming empty lockers on their way. Dean rolled his eyes at their antics, but was a little concerned about the odds of three against one.

Not _really_ concerned, but a little…

"Winchester!" No-Neck growled.

Dean nonchalantly pulled on his T-shirt. "You get one free shot. After that, I fight back."

No-Necks eyes flashed in anger, and he let his fist fly. Dean barely moved as the connection was made, lifting a finger to his lip to wipe at the faint trickle of blood.

"God. My 15-year-old brother hits harder than you."

Dean regretted that comment a second later, when No-Neck's friends shoved him forward and held him against the lockers. His cheek pressed painfully against the smooth metal.

"Give me one reason not to _murder_ you!" No-Neck threatened.

Dean smirked – a difficult feat when half his face was basically immobile. "I'd like to see you try."

One of No-Neck's friends stepped back, giving the quarterback room to punch Dean in the stomach. Dean doubled over, exhaling in pain. Unfortunately for them, the punch didn't affect Dean as much as he let on. It was actually the opening he was looking for. They didn't suspect a thing as Dean shot back up, fists flying.

Dean won the fight, but it was a bitter victory given the detention he'd be serving later that day.

Not to mention that any joy he felt at having gotten the better of three football players was tarnished by the verbal beating he got from Nikki when school was letting out.

She had been avoiding him most of the day, but now, with the moral support of a couple friends behind her, she stormed up to his locker and slapped him hard across the face.

"I don't know what the _hell_ I was thinking. My God, I threw away a perfect relationship…and for what? It's not like you can offer me anything. You have nothing to offer any woman…and you never will. You're so _beneath_ me!"

As she walked away, his face was a mask of derision and indifference. Inside, though, it started a trickle of self-doubt that would only grow the more often Dean had one-night stands and cheap relationships.

The tirade was apparently enough to get No-Neck to forgive her, as he "generously" took her back the next week. It was also enough for Dean to decide he was never again going to mess around with a woman who was involved with someone else…that he _knew_ of, at least.

* * *

Dean avoided girls for the rest of the school year…or maybe they avoided him? All he knew was that his time was spent counting down the days until he finally had his high school diploma. His evenings were spent at the shop, where it was getting harder and harder to not give Bob an answer.

A couple days before graduation, John told Dean that he heard of a bogeyman a few cities over. They would take care of it on Saturday.

Dean swallowed hard, but didn't remind his father what that day was. Sam shot Dean a pointed look, but didn't say anything as Dean subtly shook his head at the younger Winchester.

On Saturday, he fought with everything he had, trying not to think of the cap and gown in his closet, or the fact that the announcer was probably reading his name right now, wondering why no one was standing to walk across the stage and get the diploma.

That night, back in the rundown house they had been staying at, the boys were packing their stuff. John had informed them on the way back that, now that Dean was done with school, they may as well move on.

Dean was trying to find the words to say that he was going to stay, work at the shop, get a degree. Somewhere along the way, he had made his decision. Now he just had to find the courage to do it.

Dean was pulled out of his own thoughts by the anger and frustration that was coming off of Sam in waves. The younger boy was shoving his clothes in the bag, clearly taking his emotions out on the inanimate objects.

"What, Sammy?"

"I just don't understand why we always have to move! So what if you're graduated? I'm not. I _like_ it here. I have friends. I have school too!"

"You knew this was going to happen eventually, Sam."

Sam flopped down on his bed, sighing dramatically. "I know…I know." He turned his head to look at his older brother, a small smile flitting across his lips. "I'm so glad you're with us, Dean.

The younger Winchester looked up at the ceiling, missing the odd look that flashed across his brother's face. "I don't know what I'd do, if it was just me and Dad."

The next day, all three Winchesters left town.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12 – On a stormy sea of moving emotion_

Jo came into the kitchen, lugging the bags of groceries she and Bobby had just returned with. Sam and Maia were sitting at the table, both on their laptops, quietly staring at their respective screens.

"OK – not what I was expecting you two to be doing while we were gone," Jo joked, unsuccessfully hiding her curiosity.

Setting her bags down on the kitchen table, she read over Maia's shoulder. "Contract law. Hmm. Makes sense for a law student. But you're on break!"

"Um…I just wanted to see what I could find out about loopholes."

"O…kay…"

Jo grew even more curious when, as she made her way behind Sam to see what he was looking at, he immediately minimized his internet browser.

"What're you doing?"

"Just some research."

"On the case Dean and Emilia are on?"

"Uh…no."

Jo caught the look Sam and his girlfriend gave each other. Putting her hands on her hips, she stood up to her full height. "OK. Spill it. You all have been keeping something from me ever since you got here. I want to know what's going on."

Sam's face went pale, and he swallowed hard. Bobby came into the kitchen, laden with his own bags, and instantly noticed that there was tension in the air. Looking at Jo's resolute face, it wasn't hard for him to figure out what was causing that tension. He sighed and put down the bags he was carrying.

"I guess we better tell her, Sam. She'll find out soon enough anyway."

Sam nodded. "Plus, the more help we get, the better."

Jo looked back and forth between the two hunters, the curiosity quickly draining away to fear. "What's going on?"

Sam pulled out the chair next to him and indicated Jo should sit down.

"About a year ago, I was killed..."

* * *

Emilia stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, but the tears leaking out of her eyes were still hot. At least they were quiet tears, not accompanied by wrenching sobs. She had heard Dean leave shortly after she went into the bathroom, but for all she knew, he was back by now. Her pride wouldn't be able to stand it if he knew she was crying for him.

Stepping out of the stall, she quickly dried herself off and put on her pajamas. Walking out into the main room, she was surprised to see that night had fallen, and the temperature had dropped. She shivered, not helped by the fact that her wet hair was causing little rivulets of water to snake down her back and dampen her tank top.

Not bothering to turn on a lamp, Emilia grabbed her brush from her bag and watched herself in the mirror as she slowly worked the snarls out of her hair. She zoned out, almost a defense mechanism for her mind that was just plain _tired_ of thinking about other things.

She didn't have time for much peace. The door opened, and Dean entered. He stopped in his tracks as their eyes met in the wan light. Neither wanted to break the connection, but neither would admit that.

Dean was the first to look away, turning to close and lock the door, then making his way over to his bed. Sitting down, Dean pulled off his boots without untying them. "We should get to bed. It's late. Tomorrow, we'll start with the rest of the building committee members."

Emilia nodded, going back to brushing her hair. Her heart clenched as she watched him get ready for bed in the mirror – stripping off jeans and shirt until he was just in his boxers.

Like he didn't think it would affect her at all.

Like he didn't care if it affected her.

When he was settled in his bed, Emilia finally felt safe enough to turn and go to her own bed. Sliding in between the chilly sheets, she fought the memory of how his body was always so _warm_.

They lay in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but Emilia knew he was just as awake as she was. The darkness gave her strength for one last shot…for what she knew would be one last rejection.

"I didn't mean it," she whispered, embarrassed at how needy her voice sounded but knowing it was too late to take the words back. "You are worth it."

He was silent for a long time, and her ears almost hurt with the strain of it.

"No," he said softly. "You were right. I don't have anything to offer you."

Emilia turned on her side, away from him. The hot, silent tears – never that far from the surface – returned to soak her pillow beneath her.

* * *

Robert Jameson's heart was pounding on his chest. Voices rang in his ears – voices he had never heard before, shouting words that made no sense.

Voices that _couldn't_ be there…because he was alone in his home.

Resting his elbows on his kitchen table, Robert pressed his palms against his ears. He shut his eyes tight, trying to will the voices to stop. Or _at least_ to start making sense.

He didn't even realize it when he started moaning in pain, in anger, in frustration. Rocking back and forth in his seat, all he knew was that he had to make it _stop_.

But how?

Shooting up from the chair, he knocked it backwards. He couldn't hear the clatter of the wood on linoleum over the cacophony in his head. Wild eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for something – _anything _– that would help.

His eyes landed on his knife block. As if someone else was controlling his body, Robert fairly ran to the counter, and he grabbed the biggest blade out of the block.

Breathing hard, he stared at the knife. The voices in his head started to blend together into one harmonious _yes…this will work_. There was still one voice – one that sounded suspiciously like his own voice – that dissented. But it was quiet and weak. And it didn't have an alternative suggestion.

A gleeful smile spread across Robert's face as he anticipated the quiet that was to come. His arm moved swiftly, forcing the blade into his right ear and, through it, into his brain.

His body dropped to the floor.

* * *

Sorry this is such a short chapter. Look for more soon!


	13. Chapter 13

New episode tonight!! Whoo Hoo!!

_Chapter 13 – Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean_

_

* * *

_

Two Months Ago

Sam knew Dean didn't think he noticed when he went out onto the porch, leaving him alone with his friends and Maia. What Dean didn't realize was that Sam never stopped being aware of where Dean was. The closer they came to the end of the year, the more Sam _watched_ Dean. The more he watched, the more he worried.

Turning back to his friends, Sam pasted a smile across his face, but a glance at Maia confirmed for him that she at least knew something was up. She had been trying to get Sam to tell her what was wrong for a long time. Right after the deal was made, Dean had made Sam promise not to tell Maia and the others just yet. Sam was quick to agree – he didn't want them to worry about the fact that he had died.

But it was getting harder and harder to lie – especially to Maia. For the rest of the evening, even after Dean came back inside, Maia kept giving him these _looks_. Sam knew she wasn't going to keep letting him say everything was fine. Swallowing hard, he started to plan out in his mind what he was going to say to her that night, when they were alone.

When they did go to her bedroom, he tried to distract her with kisses – it _had_ been awhile since their last visit, after all.

But no such luck.

She pushed him away from her, her eyes piercing his. They had left a lamp on, and the soft light shadowed her face, but Sam could still see the concern and curiosity – and almost a little bit of hurt.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" she whispered, and a pang of guilt stabbed through Sam. He turned his head away from her, unsure of how to answer, not wanting to break his promise to Dean but not wanting to ruin what he had with Maia either.

Then Sam rationalized to himself that Dean had said not to tell them _yet_ – and it had been _months_.

He turned back to Maia, pulling his girlfriend into his arms. He felt stronger in her embrace … partly because he could tell the story to her shoulder rather than to her face.

In a quiet almost-whisper, he began the story. Maia knew enough not to interrupt him, now that he was finally talking. "I didn't tell you at first because Dean asked me not to."

Sam sighed. "I also didn't tell you because I know you worry about me. And I didn't want you to worry even more…About nine months ago, I…I died."

Maia couldn't stop herself from reacting. Gasping loudly, she pulled back to look in Sam's eyes, trying to see if that was some kind of cruel joke. Seeing nothing but earnestness, hot tears sprung up and her heart started pounding. "What?"

"I was stabbed in the back, by another person like me – another person with abilities."

"But…how…?"

"Dean. He, uh, made a deal to bring me back. A deal with a demon."

Maia's mouth dropped open. She wasn't as familiar with the supernatural as Sam and Dean, although she had picked up on some stuff since she started dating Sam. However, one didn't have to be familiar with the supernatural to know that making deals with demons was generally not a good idea. "Oh my God."

Sam nodded bitterly. "I wish he hadn't. God, I wish he hadn't."

Maia dropped her gaze, ashamed. Burying her head in Sam's shoulder, she mumbled, "I can't wish the same thing, Sam. I'm so glad you're with me."

Sam lifted a hand to cradle her head, kissing her temple softly. "I know," he whispered.

They were silent for a second, as both realized that if things had happened differently, they wouldn't have seen each other again. They wouldn't be together at that moment.

"But…" Sam broke the silence. "Dean's going to pay the price in just a couple months. The demon gave him a year to live, before she comes back to bring his soul to hell."

Maia gasped, sitting up in bed. "We have to stop it. We have to find some kind of spell or charm or … or _something_!"

Sam almost laughed, touched by the fact that she seemed ready to start researching right then. "I've been looking, believe me. So far, no go."

Sam pulled Maia back down, resting her head against his chest. She hugged him, wordlessly offering her support. Sam stared up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts and worries. Maia couldn't tell if his next words were directed at her, at himself...or possibly at the demon.

"But I will find something."

_

* * *

_

Present time

Dean's ringing phone jarred Emilia awake, and it took her a minute to remember where she was and what was happening. Looking over at his bed, she realized he was already up and …somewhere else. Grabbing his phone off the bedside table, she flipped it open to answer without looking at who it was.

"Hello?"

Pause. "Hello. Is this Emilia?"

"Yes."

"Hello, Emilia. This is Father Aaron."

"Oh, hello, Father. Good morning."

"Same to you. Although, it's not that good."

Emilia's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"Another member of my church apparently committed suicide last night. Another member of the building committee."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you."

"Why don't you give me the information? I'll find Dean, and we'll head over."

Emilia turned around in a circle, frantically looking for a piece of paper and pen. Seeing the hotel notepad on top of the TV, she ran over and grabbed it. Jotting down the name and address the father gave her, Emilia hung up and proceeded to look for some sign from Dean about where he went.

Seeing nothing, she stuck her head out the door to see if she could spot him. Still no Dean. She quickly got dressed and sat on her bed, waiting for him to come back.

She didn't have long to wait, as a few minutes later, she heard the sound of the doorknob turning. A thrill of excitement – and of fear – coursed through her, as he entered, carrying two cups of coffee. Their eyes met briefly before both looked away, embarrassed of the feelings that came out last night, now that it was morning and light.

Dean handed Emilia one of the cups, and she explained what Father Aaron had said. A grim expression settled across his features, and Emilia could almost see the "Hunter" persona settle on his shoulders. He was no longer the Dean that flirted and joked. She was almost a little afraid of this Dean.

"Let's go." Dean led the way out of the apartment, not looking back to see if she was following. Emilia quickly dogged his steps, not doubting for a second that he would leave without her if she didn't.

Reversing out of the parking spot, Dean shot her a look. "Did Father Aaron say how this Jameson offed himself?"

Emilia grimaced. "Apparently he stuck a knife into the side of his head."

"Ugh."

Emilia nodded grimly, forcing her attention to the road in front of them as she mentally prepared herself for the sight. The few hunts she had gone on before seeking out Bobby's help had been relatively un-grotesque. She was kind of hoping the body would be long gone by the time they got there. And maybe the nice crime scene investigators would even clean up the blood…

She gave herself a strong mental talking-to, reminding herself that if she was going to be a hunter, she better get over her queasiness. Hell, there might be times when she'll be the one _causing_ the blood.

Dean made the trip in quick time, causing Emilia to remember that Dean was familiar with the town and its back streets. She reflected briefly on the fact that there was so very little she knew about the man she – if she was honest with herself – loved.

As they pulled up in front of the house, surrounded by cop cars and curious onlookers, Dean reached over to open the glove compartment and pull out a couple official-looking identification cards.

"I made these this morning when I was getting coffee. They say we work for the church's insurance company. We're "of course" concerned about what it means that so many of the church's members are meeting their end."

"Why would an insurance company be worried about suicides?"

"In today's world, people will sue over anything. Even religious people."

Emilia nodded, clipping her badge to her shirt. "Emily Price?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to make your first name too different, so you'd remember to answer to it."

Emilia shot him an offended look. "Dean. I answered to Viola for a whole year."

"I know. But that was a rookie mistake. Unless you're used to answering to strange names - "

"Like David Hasselhoff?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah. Unless you're used to that, you should stick close to home. My first couple names were always Dean Fill-in-the-Blank. But Dean is at least a _little_ more common than _Emilia_."

"Hey! I like my name."

Dean chuckled, winking at her. "So do I."

Luckily he had already launched himself out of the driver's seat. He didn't see the blush spread furiously across Em's face.

Regaining control of her emotions, she followed him out of the car. He was already at the police tape, flashing his identification card at the uniform standing on the other side. She arrived on time to hear the officer calling for another over his radio.

"I can't let you inside, sir." The officer said – to Emilia's private relief. "But the detective in charge will speak with you in a few minutes."

"Thanks."

Stepping aside to wait, Dean bent down to softly ask where Aaron was. Emilia just shrugged her shoulders in response. She was the first to see a man in a suit coming toward them and nodded her head in his direction for Dean's benefit. Dean turned, pasting a smile on and holding a hand out to shake the detective's hand.

"Detective. I'm Malcolm Young, and this is Emily Price. We work for First Mutual, the church's insurance company."

The other man shook Dean's hand. "Det. Mark Grayson. The officer said you wanted to speak to me."

Emilia schooled her face into a concerned, professional expression, trying hard not to smirk at the web of lies that spun out of Dean's mouth as he explained they were just offering their services in whatever way the police needed. They _of course_ wanted to help the poor members of the congregation as much as the detective did, after all.

In fact, she was paying so much attention to looking the part and not laughing at Dean's words that she didn't even notice the looks Det. Grayson kept sending her way.

Dean noticed.

"So, detective, if you don't mind me asking – why the crime scene tape? I was under the impression these deaths were suicides?"

The detective nodded. "That has been the case so far. And it's likely the case here too. Given the …method of choice… in this suicide, however, we are leaving it open until we make sure." He looked at Dean briefly, then sent a dazzling grin at Emilia. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Dean sneered at the Detective's back as he walked away, causing Emilia to shoot him a confused look. She slapped his arm quickly, indicating that he should be aware of who might see him and wonder why an insurance agent was making such an expression.

Shaking himself out of the jealousy that swarmed over him, Dean turned again to Emilia and held out the car keys for her to take. "OK. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to the church, and find out from Father Aaron exactly what the building committee has been discussing or working on."

"OK. What are you going to do?"

"Wait till most of the crowd clears out, then take a look inside the house."

Emilia stared for a second. "Dean. It's a crime scene. It's not like they're going to just let you walk inside."

Dean smirked. "Just let me worry about that. Call if you get anything."

* * *

Points to anyone who recognizes Dean's "name" :)


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14 – I set a course for winds of fortune_

Emilia poked her head inside Father Aaron's office, but he wasn't there. She finally saw him exiting the confessional, and hurried over to meet him.

"Emilia. Did you and Dean discover anything at Mr. Jameson's house?"

"Not much. Dean's still there, so hopefully he'll find something. Listen, I'm hoping you can help us with something. Do you know if the building committee was working on something special or new?"

"Well, I wasn't at their last meeting, so I don't know of any new, _minor_ projects they've decided to tackle. But just last month, we decided it was time to arrange for repairs of the steeple. It's been on this building for about 100 years. It's actually much older than that – it came over from a church in Wales with some of the settlers of that time."

Emilia's thoughts were already racing, trying to think of anything that might help determine the significance of that. "OK, but the suicides didn't start until about a week ago – which was after their last meeting. If it is related to the steeple, wouldn't they have started last month?"

Father Aaron ran a hand across his eyes, sighed, and gestured for Emilia to follow him into his office. He picked up the phone on his desk and called a number he apparently had memorized. After just two short rings, someone on the other end picked up.

"Lydia. It's Father Aaron….yes, it is horrible about Mr. Jameson ... I will certainly keep you updated on the service information…I'm sure Mary and the kids would appreciate that…"

Father Aaron shared an amused look with Emilia.

"Lydia - " he said quickly, leaving Emilia with the impression that he was used to having to cut this woman off during phone conversations. "I need to know – what did you and the rest of the committee do during the last meeting?"

Lydia once again took over the conversation, leaving Father Aaron to only put in a few "uh-huhs" to keep her going. Now, however, she was saying things that definitely seemed interesting to the priest, as he kept giving Emilia pointed looks and smiles. Finally hanging up the phone, he turned his attention to her – which was a good thing, as Emilia was about to burst from curiosity.

"What?!"

"The committee continued their discussion on the steeple. But, for this meeting, they also went up into the attic, trying to find records or some other kind of history for it."

Emilia smiled. "Point me in the direction of the attic, then. I'm all about history, after all!"

* * *

Dean chatted with one of Jameson's neighbors about what a "horrible shame" it all was, with one eye on the police as they packed up evidence to take back to the lab. It was clear that the big guns were going to be leaving soon, and it was only a matter of minutes before it was just Dean, the crime scene tape and the poor uniformed officer that would have to guard the scene until he was relieved at the end of his shift.

Clearly the officer wasn't happy with the assignment. That made Dean's job that much easier. As the officer stared straight ahead from his station at the front of the house, Dean made his way surreptitiously around to the back. He found an "unlocked" window, and let himself in. Pulling out his homemade EMF detector, Dean was not surprised to see the needle jumping as soon as he entered the kitchen, which was obviously where the body had been. Even though they had suspected something more than suicide, it was nice to be proven right.

Despite the EMF telling him there was something supernatural about the kitchen, his eyes couldn't see anything strange. Dean decided to check out the rest of the house. He moved with the stealth that had been driven into him over the years of training. It felt weird being there without Sam.

He wondered if he'd get the chance to hunt with Sam again.

Shaking his head to bring his focus back to the dimly lit, quiet house, Dean slowly climbed the stairs – every sense on alert for danger. The first room seemed as normal as the kitchen. When he passed the bathroom next, he saw someone inside. Jumping back, clutching his chest to calm his pounding heart, Dean's mind raced through a variety of excuses as to why he was in the house.

Then he realized it was probably a good thing Sam wasn't with him – he'd never live down the shame of having been scared of his own reflection.

The chuckle died on Dean's lips as he continued to stare at himself. He could have sworn the reflection winked at him…

_I know how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror and hate what you see…_

_Then again, it's not much of a life worth saving…_

_You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog…A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument._

Dean's mouth settled into a firm line, reminding himself of how he had _destroyed_ the other Dean, how he had finally admitted to himself as well as to the other Dean that he had been there for Sammy when their father hadn't, that he didn't deserve the cards he had been dealt.

But that didn't change the fact that he had been right about something else that night too…he _was_ his own worst nightmare…

* * *

Emilia had been through just about every box and shelf in the attic and hadn't found anything.

_Not that I'm expecting a big neon sign pointing at what I'm looking for or anything…_

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and wrinkled her nose _again_ at the dusty smell that permeated the room. She took one last look around the attic, wishing for some kind of "ah-ha" moment. _Divine intervention wouldn't be too much to hope for in a church, would it?_

But, alas. It still looked like a bunch of boxes and miscellaneous storage items. In fact, there hadn't been any records or anything about the steeple up here – Emilia suspected that one of the building committee members took those items down at their last meeting. The death this morning had distracted her and Dean from their original purpose of speaking with the other committee members – they'd have to tackle that later.

Pulling out her cell phone, Emilia confirmed that Dean hadn't called yet. She decided to go back to the hotel to wait for him.

* * *

The TV was on, so it took a few seconds for Emilia to hear the other sound. Almost a whisper… Turning the volume down, Emilia uncurled her legs and stood up from her bed. Cocking her head, she tried to make out what the sound was but it was too quiet.

She tore open the bathroom door, but no one was in there. And now that she thought about it, maybe the sound was coming from the other direction.

She pulled open the door to the hotel and looked to both sides. No one was outside. Unsurprising, as the other people who had a hotel room in the middle of the day weren't really the type to want to loiter around outside.

She shut the door, confusion playing across her face. Deciding to chalk it up to paranoia, Emilia sat back down and turned the volume back up.

And that's when the noise started getting louder…

* * *

Congrats to beth9874 for knowing Malcolm Young is a singer - he's actually of AC/DC.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15 - Carry on, you will always remember_

Dean had made it to the final room of the house without any more false alarms. Stepping into the room, he noticed it was definitely a child's room. His heart panged for a second for the poor kid who was now without a father.

A soft yet sad smile flitted across Dean's lips as his eyes caught sight of a stuffed, kid-friendly Count Dracula. It made him remember a different kind of vampire than the actual vampires they had fought recently.

* * *

1988

"And everybody gets to wear a costume to school, and there's candy, and Tommy says he's going as a mummy, and I think I want to go as a vampire, and…"

Dean and John Winchester shared a look over the table, but little Sammy was too happily babbling to notice. His Kindergarten class was going to celebrate Halloween, and it was all Sam had been able to talk about since he got home from school. He hadn't even known what Halloween was at first, but his embarrassment over that was quickly forgotten in the excitement it caused.

Sam's new best friend had obviously been quick to explain what it was that Sam had been missing out on for the first years of his life. And Dean could tell their Dad wasn't too happy about this new development.

"And then you go "trick-or-treating" and people _give_ you candy, and -"

"Sam." John's gruff voice interrupted Sam's breathless chatter. Dean winced, knowing what was coming next. Sam, however, hadn't had enough experiences yet to know, so his bright, happy eyes turned to their father with no concern or disappointment…yet.

"Yeah, Dad."

"We don't celebrate Halloween. You won't be going trick-or-treating, or wearing a Dracula costume. Just stop talking now."

"But, Dad!"

"You heard me, Sam."

Dean felt a pang of pity at seeing Sam bite his lip and look down at the table with eyes now bright with tears instead of happiness. A surge of anger rose up in him against his father, but by age 9 he already knew better to try and argue on Sammy's behalf. Or even on his own behalf…He may feel older than his actual years, but nine wasn't too old to want to go trick-or-treating too…

* * *

The next week saw several arguments, as Sam tried to get John to change his mind. Tears didn't work, nor did begging or even promising to work harder at his karate practice. He even tried bargaining – he would give up trick-or-treating if he could at least wear a costume to class.

Dean, pretending to focus on his math homework to avoid being involved in the latest fight, remembered the burning shame he felt the last couple years when classmates would ask him why he wasn't wearing a costume to their class Halloween parties.

"But _why?_" Sammy whined – a question that was becoming more and more frequent the older Sam got, the more he started to see what was going on around them.

Dean glanced at his father, wondering if this would be the time John started explaining to Sammy about the things that went bump in the night. He hoped it wasn't. Five was still too young.

It didn't matter that he had only been four.

Sammy deserved a chance at a childhood. Dean wished not for the first time that his brother wasn't so _freakin'_ smart and observant. It was getting harder and harder to avoid answering Sam's questions.

"Because I said so."

Dean sighed in relief. Sammy had gotten a reprieve once again – even if he didn't realize it.

* * *

He wasn't so relieved when he went into their bedroom later that night to find Sammy crying his eyes out. Eventually he got his brother to blubber out an explanation for him – he was afraid to go to class without a costume, especially after telling people that first day that he was going to be an _awesome_ vampire. He was afraid that you _had_ to wear a costume to be able to participate in the games and get the candy. He was afraid to tell Tommy that he wouldn't be able to trick-or-treat with him.

The next day, Dean slipped out of the house and walked the two miles to the K-Mart by himself, an empty backpack hanging off his shoulders. Once there, he found the Halloween aisle. He glanced to both sides, happy to see that it was still too early in the morning for most shoppers to be up and about. He snagged a Count Dracula costume kit off the shelf and quickly stuffed it into the backpack. On his way out of the aisle, he grabbed a bottle of fake blood and added that to the bag.

Dean walked nonchalantly out of the store. Even at nine, he had already learned that if he wanted to deceive somebody, you had to look innocent.

Dean had a hard time keeping it a surprise for Sam for the next two days. The closer it got to Halloween, the more dejected his brother became. Dean had to hide his smiles, as he anticipated Sammy's reaction when he found out Dean had gotten him a costume.

The morning of Halloween, Sam dragged himself out of bed. Dean was already up, making them both bowls of cereal. John was still in bed – he had been out late the night before, but Dean was unsure if he had been battling actual demons or his inner ones.

Sammy pulled himself onto one of the kitchen counter stools, and gave Dean a pathetically obvious look of fake sickness. "I'm not feeling well, Dean. I don't think I should go to school today."

"Hmm…" Dean said, scratching his head. "Well, then, I don't know what I'm going to do with this."

Dean lifted the costume from where he had hidden it in the cupboard, grinning widely as Sammy's eyes lit up. The younger Winchester started to shrilly thank Dean, who quickly shushed him. "Don't wake up Dad. He can't know about this." Sam immediately shut up, grabbed the costume and ran off to put it on, cereal forgotten.

Dean made sure to pack a change of clothes for Sammy for after school. They couldn't risk their Dad being around then and seeing the costume. Dean figured he'd probably never hear the end of it, if he did.

The entire walk home from school Sam, who had been warned twice already not to talk about any of this in front of John, told Dean all that had happened during the party. He also told Dean several times that his Dracula costume was the "coolest" costume in the grade. Dean felt a surge of affection and pride at the adoring look Sammy was sending up toward his hero.

* * *

Later that evening, Sam's joy was forgotten as he sat on the couch and looked out the plate glass window at the neighborhood children leaving their houses to go trick-or-treating as day turned to night. Dean wished he could have figured out a way to give that to Sam too, but John was still in the house and they wouldn't be able to leave without his knowing.

The doorbell rang, and Dean got up with a heavy sigh, knowing it would be the first of many children that he would have to send away empty-handed. He was surprised when the person on the other end turned out to be Sam's friend Tommy. He could see Tommy's mother standing at the end of the driveway with another woman.

"Hi Dean. My mommy said Sam can come with us, if you don't want to take him out."

Dean gulped, weighing the options in his mind. He looked over at Sammy's hopeful face, but his decision was made for him when John came into the living room, drawn by the doorbell.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. Sam can't go trick-or-treating."

The kindergarteners' faces sported matching expressions of deep sorrow. Tommy gave a soft "okay" before dragging his feet back toward his mother.

Closing the door, Dean joined Sam on the couch, rubbing his younger brother's back. They watched together as the last little bit of sunlight faded away.

Which was exactly when the screaming started.

John ran back into the living room, sharing a look with Dean. He led the way out the front door, with his sons hot on his heels. He held an arm out, silently telling them to stay where they were.

Seeing what was causing the women and children to scream, Sam started screaming himself. Dean had to hold him back, as the five-year-old fought with all his strength to go help his friend. Some kind of …thing…was attacking the tiny boy, and Dean could tell he was already gone. Tommy's mother was held on both sides by two other women, who were half stopping her from attacking the thing with her bare hands and half supporting her as she sank to the ground in grief. Fathers tried to throw sticks and rocks at the thing. John knew better, though, and pulled out his gun. Two short bursts of sound, and the thing lay as quiet and still as Tommy. Their blood mingled in the street.

Sammy was sobbing into Dean's shoulder. The townspeople were convinced it had to be some kind of wolf, and John let them think that.

The Winchesters moved soon after that, and Sam's "why's" started coming more frequently. He never asked to celebrate another holiday again…until Christmas.

* * *

Coming back from his memories and looking out the window, Dean saw that night would soon fall. He moved quickly into the last room to finish his search. Seeing it was a home office, he went straight to the desk and started pulling open the drawers. The bottom right one had files, and Dean flipped through them.

"Bingo." Pulling out the file marked _Our Lady – Building Committee_. Flipping it open, he saw that Jameson was apparently the secretary of the committee. Grabbing the records from the latest meeting, Dean put the rest of the file back in the drawer. He stood, folding the papers and stuffing them inside his jacket.

He left the house, sparing time for one last glance at Count Dracula.

* * *

So, quick poll: Did anyone remember my part in You Can't Go Home Again about Sam and his dislike of Halloween, and therefore predict what was going to happen to Tommy? I have wanted to write this part ever since I wrote that line, so I hope you all liked it! (see Chapter 10 in YCGHA for a reminder)


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16 – Carry on, nothing equals the splendor _

Emilia was on her knees in between the two beds, holding Dean's gun in her hands as tears streamed down her face. All of the voices in her head were shouting at her, telling her that it would finally be _quiet_ if she just pointed the barrel at her head and pulled the trigger. The muscles in her arms ached as she fought with all her might against the urge to do exactly that.

She was beginning to lose the fight.

Gasping, she watched in fear as her arms seemed to move of their own free will. The gun slowly, jerkily pointed toward her head. The more it moved, the easier it did so; she was starting to lose her will to fight, beginning to think it was futile.

The barrel was pointing straight at her now, and she realized how terrible it was to look down the empty black hole. She couldn't handle the sight and closed her eyes, both dreading and anticipating the end.

The voices were so loud in her head right now that she didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the shout that ripped itself out of Dean's mouth. She did, however, feel the gun knocked from her hands. Dean gripped her upper arms as he kneeled down in front of her. When she opened her eyes to meet his, they were wild with fear and madness. She could see him in front of her, but couldn't concentrate on him. The voices were still there; she still had to find a way to stop them.

* * *

Dean had never felt such fear in his life as he did when he opened the door to see Emilia milliseconds away from death. The mere idea of not having her in his life – for what little there was left – was too much for him. Even more than that, he could not fathom the thought of her lifeless body. She was just too vibrant, too _alive_ – it would have been unnatural for her to die. He moved with a speed he didn't know he had, making it to her side faster than he thought possible.

With the gun out of the way, he gripped her arms. He held them tightly, knowing that if he didn't force his hands to stay where they were, he would gather her into his arms and never let her go.

Dean shook Emilia, trying to get her to open her eyes and come back to him. "Emilia! Em!"

She did finally open her eyes, but if the gleam in them was any indication, she didn't completely see him. He called her name again.

"Listen to me! Focus on me! Snap out of it! Come on, Em. I know you can do it."

* * *

Slowly, painfully, Emilia focused more on Dean than she did on the voices. It was like swimming upward from a great depth, but it helped to watch his lips move. She knew he was talking to her, and she wanted to know what he said. The voices seemed to be under _her_ control now, and they slowly started to fade. His voice in turn gained strength and volume, until – finally – it was the only voice she heard.

"…you can do it."

"Dean…" Her voice was exhausted, merely a whisper, but it was enough to make Dean grin brilliantly.

She burst out crying, partially ashamed to show weakness in front of him but mostly just too tired and stressed to care.

* * *

Dean was startled when she started to cry – he was too happy to see her back with him, and didn't think it a crying occasion. His heart went out to her and, before he knew what he was doing – before he could stop himself – he pulled her into his arms. It was exactly what he told himself to not do just a few seconds before. Now, though, the arguments against doing so…well, they just didn't seem that important.

Her sobs came heavy and strong for at least a minute, but Dean's arm was just as strong around her, grounding her to the world, to him. His other hand moved repeatedly over her head and hair, calming her as much as the soft "shhs" he whispered into her ear. His breath was warm and moist against her skin, and she took comfort listening to his steady heartbeat underneath her. She grabbed his shirt with one fist, clenching it between her fingers, relishing the opportunity of being close to him again despite the circumstances that had caused the closeness.

Unfortunately, it was over too soon. As her sobs slowed and her breath evened out, Dean extricated himself from her embrace. Looking at her, she saw the questions in his eyes and sadly realized he was back to Hunter Dean.

"What the hell, Em? What happened?"

She shakily explained the voices she heard, how they just _wouldn't go away_, how it got better when she picked up the gun, how she tried to fight it.

Dean looked thoughtful. "Well, it's obviously what's been happening to the members of the building committee. I was thinking it had been something with the steeple, but now it looks like it's something else – something in the attic that you all happened to be exposed to."

"Makes sense. But Lydia – the woman Father Aaron talked to – she hasn't been affected yet. Wouldn't you think if it works shortly after being exposed to it, she would have committed suicide before I attempted it?"

Dean frowned, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out the records from Jameson's house. Scanning the first couple pages, he smiled. "It looks like all the committee members _except_ Lydia went into the attic. She apparently uses a walker, and didn't want to make the climb up the stairs."

Emilia smirked in response, and adopted a teasing tone. "Hmm…this hunting thing seems pretty easy, so far. The answers just seem to fall in our laps."

Dean gave her a look. "Easy? You almost died!"

"Yeah, but you were there to stop me." Emilia elbowed Dean, taking advantage of whatever opportunity she could find to touch him again. It was like a drug; now that she had done it once, she had to do it again.

She was confused though when he looked away from her. She had said it in a jesting tone, but his face looked completely serious when he quietly said "I won't always be there to stop you."

Emilia stared at him, wondering if she should say something in response. He took the decision away from her by quickly focusing back on the records in front of him. "OK. It looks like the steeple records were in an oak chest. Do you remember that?"

Emilia cocked her head to the side, picturing the attic in her mind. "Yes."

"What was in it?"

"It was mostly papers. I didn't see anything about the steeple, so the committee must have taken them out. Besides papers, there was an old leather journal. That was all."

"Probably the journal then. Let's head over to the church"

* * *

It was pretty late by the time they made it back to the church, and the darkened building made them concerned they would have to wait until the next day. Luckily, Father Aaron was home at his rectory next door and was as anxious as they were to figure out what was causing the suicides. He led the way back over to the church and up toward the attic.

Once up there, Emilia led the way to the oak chest in the far corner of the attic. She opened it, pulled out the journal and was about to open it, but Dean grabbed it out of her hand with a stern look. The angry retort sprang to her lips, but his eyes flashed and she knew she didn't want to risk it.

He flipped open the journal and started thumbing through pages. "Looks like it belonged to a Father Richard, around 1790."

"That was when the steeple was built for the first church back in Europe," Father Aaron offered, and he and Dean shared a glance. Dean flipped toward the last couple of pages, figuring that might be where the most important information would be located. He read for a few seconds before sharing with the others.

"OK, Father Richard was a junior priest, under a Father Michael. It says here that Father Richard took over the congregation in 1792 when Father Michael was excommunicated for "conversing with demons." His last entry talks about how Father Michael would continue to come to see him at the church, claiming he was innocent, asking for forgiveness. Richard said he felt guilty about not accepting Michael's repentance, but was afraid of what the church would do if he absolved the other priest's sins. Apparently, his instincts were right, as after his last failed attempt, Michael cursed Richard and "any one he had contact with." Richard goes on for several paragraphs about his fears of what that means, about not wanting to hurt any of his congregation."

Dean flipped the page to find the next one blank. Confusion washed over his expression, and he turned a couple more blank pages. The last page, however, had writing again. "Hmm… this is a different hand. The writer says Father Richard was so concerned about this curse that he took his own life, rather than risk cursing his congregation." Dean read quietly for a few seconds, and then let out a snort of disgust. "Because of his sin of suicide, Father Richard was denied last rites and buried outside of holy ground."

Father Aaron shook his head. "It's a shame how some people only follow our tenets, rather than the spirit of them."

"I'm guessing that Richard's spirit is still in his journal then, and that is enough of him for people to come in contact with to activate the curse," Dean said, closing the journal and waving it about as he spoke.

Emilia looked between the two men. "So how do we stop the curse – before we all commit suicide too, that is?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, and pulled out his lighter. Flicking the flame to life, he held it to the book, just as Father Aaron shouted out a "no" and grabbed the journal out of his hands.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. This is a valuable piece of church history. I can't let you just burn it."

"We gotta get rid of the spirit somehow, Father."

"I know. And we are going to do so."

Emilia and Dean followed Father Aaron down into the chapel, sharing confused looks with each other. Comprehension dawned on Emilia, as Father Aaron started performing a ceremony over the journal. She leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear.

"He's absolving Father Richard of his sins, and performing Last Rites."

Dean looked uncomfortable and skeptical. "Look, Father. No offense, but I can't take the chance that that will do it."

Father Aaron finished the rite and looked over at Dean with a smile. "That's OK, Dean. I have _faith_ that it will."

Dean was about to open his mouth again, but Emilia tugged on his arm. "Come on, Dean. Let's leave the priests to their business. You and I can watch out for each other, if you're still worried."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled away, as a strange, unidentifiable feeling began to grow in his heart.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: You can look for more chapters more often, as I'm trying to finish my version of it before they deal with it too much on the new episodes!

_Chapter 17 – The center lights around your vanity_

Emilia handed Dean one of the bottles of beer the bartender had just served. She had convinced Dean that they should celebrate the successful ending of their case, even if he was not entirely sure it was over.

By the third beer, though, he was in a more celebratory mood. And that's when she started to beg for him to dance with her. Her first couple requests were laughed off, but she was quickly starting to gain ground as he secretly thought that it would give him the perfect excuse to touch her.

"Alright. But don't tell Sam."

Emilia laughed, held up her fingers in a scout's honor pledge, and grabbed his hand to pull him to the dance floor. After a few minutes, she looked up at him impressed. "Why don't you dance more? You're a _good_ dancer."

"What can I say? It's not good for the image." Dean winked.

She laughed. "When was the last time you danced?"

Dean cleared his throat and avoided her eyes. "When I was dating Cassie."

Emilia's smile faded. Dean couldn't stand the look on her face, so quickly pulled her closer so he wouldn't have to look at it. He tried to ignore how _good_ it felt to have her close. She seemed confused at first, but didn't fight him on their new position. Instead, she melted into his arms. A few seconds later, she murmured into his ear. "So what's the _real_ reason you don't dance?"

He was quiet for a long time, and she began to think it would be yet another question he wouldn't answer. But, as usual, he surprised her.

"I'm trying to keep a promise to an old friend."

She pulled slightly back to look at him, more curious than ever, hoping he'll explain the cryptic statement. The far off look in his eyes, though, told her that it was too much to hope for.

* * *

Pride, joy and a tiny bit of nervousness flowed through Dean as he pulled the Impala into the school parking lot. He still couldn't believe John had let him drive the car to school, even if he did just pass his driver's test with flying colors. He had to wake up earlier than usual and give Sam a ride to the middle school as part of the deal, but that was fine with him. He'd wake up at 3 a.m. if it meant he could drive the Impala.

Jealous males and interested females alike watched him pull into a spot and exit the car. They had only been in Rawlins, Wyoming for about two months, but Dean had been doing better there – at least socially – then the last couple schools.

Academically, however, it was another story.

As he walked into the school, he sent a cocky grin over at Allison, one of the prettiest girls in his grade, in response to her shouted comment to him about having a nice car. He thought Allison was a little too stuck up to actually be interested in her, but he would be a liar if he didn't say he was a little flattered that she seemed to be interested in him. At 16, he was already good-looking and muscular, but he still saw in the mirror the scrawny 13-year-old he was. His cockiness was just a show, and he wasn't that comfortable around girls yet, no matter what he told Sammy.

Making his way to his first class, he flopped himself into his seat next to Lucy. She was actually the one girl he felt entirely comfortable with, which surprised him since he didn't think he'd like the goody-two-shoes brain when their math teacher suggested she tutor him shortly after he first arrived. Their twice-weekly sessions started out awkwardly; she tried her best to help him with the algebra problems, but his secret shame at having to admit he needed help made him prickly and unwilling to work with her.

He slowly warmed up though, enjoying the way her eyes lit up when he finally gave her the right answers, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks when he teased her, enjoying the fact that he could hang out with her and actually feel normal for a short time.

Now, their sessions were part math but mostly just hanging out, watching TV and talking. Dean hadn't thought it would be possible to _truly_ get to know someone without telling them about hunting, but, with Lucy, he started to realize that there was _more_ to him than that. He regularly told her that she was really the first real friend he ever had.

And, if he was truly honest, he wanted to be more than friends.

But he wasn't sure if she wanted the same. Sure, they had started being more flirtatious when they hung out, but she always seemed to hold part of herself back. Frankly, he didn't know how to read women yet. She was a mystery to him.

He would, of course, never admit any of that to Sammy. Sam was under the impression he lost his virginity a year and a half ago. To Dean's everlasting shame, though, he had yet to do so. Sure, there were girls here and there willing to _experiment_ with him, but nothing more than that.

Dean didn't think Lucy was the kind of girl that would even be willing to experiment. She was a _good_ girl. Just his luck…

* * *

When Allison walked into the classroom, she sent Dean a dazzling grin and sashayed past him on the way to her own desk. Dean caught Lucy's eyes, and she rolled her own in response. He smiled. Dean kept telling Lucy that he wasn't interested in Allison, but she always said it was only a matter of time before he started dating her – that she was too pretty for a 16-year-old boy to ignore for too long. He wondered if Lucy was actually as jealous of that as she sounded, or if he was just imagining that because he _wanted_ her to be jealous.

The teacher came in then, and he tried his hardest to focus on the equations they were learning about today. He did, after all, promise Lucy that he would _try_.

* * *

Lucy handed Dean a soda and sat next to him on her living room couch, turning on _Cheers_. They had finished going over the homework about 15 minutes ago, but Dean, as usual, was delaying his departure. It was just so much nicer to hang out with Lucy at her home, away from all their peers. At school, they weren't really of the same social class, with Dean being the well-liked class jokester and rebel, and Lucy being a "nerd." Dean didn't let that stop him from talking with her at school, but he could tell it bothered her when Allison and others gave them weird looks for doing so. Here, though, they could just be themselves.

Dean's eyes were directed at Sam and Diane on the screen, but his entire teenaged body was aware of hers curled up next to him, close enough to touch. He was on fire, and pretty soon he would have to start playing with the throw pillow just to have something in his lap.

She laughed at something Cliff said, and he took that opportunity to stare at her and smile. He loved her laugh. Noticing him looking at her, she caught his eye, smiled and blushed slightly.

When the commercial came on, she plucked his sleeve to get his attention. In a joking tone, she asked him if he was going to take Allison to the upcoming formal dance. He let out a guttural laugh, happy to note that she seemed relieved despite the fact that she had tried to make it sound like she was just teasing him.

"No," he said. "I don't dance."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why not?"

Dean couldn't meet her eyes, slightly ashamed yet knowing he was going to admit his reasons to her. For some reason, he couldn't lie to her – so it was a good thing she never pressed him too hard on family issues. "I can't dance."

She smiled, stood, and grabbed his hand. Pulling him to his feet, she informed him that she would teach him. He half-heartedly protested at first, but inwardly crowed about the fact that she was directing him where to put his hands on her body. He soon realized the problem with this situation, as he quickly had to start thinking about the most grotesque monsters and dead bodies he had ever seen to avoid making it clear to her _how much_ he was enjoying this.

Luckily, when he didn't think he'd be able to control his body any longer, her mom came home. He used that as an excuse to leave for his own home. Lucy walked him to the door, not able to resist one last tease.

"There. Now you're a pro, and have no reason why you can't ask Allison."

She winked and closed the door, before he could gather the courage to ask her.

* * *

The next day, he had lost his nerve. The words were on the tip of his tongue as they walked down the hall together, but he couldn't get his voice to bring those words to life. Stopping at his locker, they were both shocked when Allison came up to them, crowded Lucy out of the way, and tossed her hair in an attempt to get Dean's attention.

"Hi, Dean!"

"Hi, Allison…"

"A girl could wait forever for you to make your move, Dean Winchester. So I'll make it easy for you. Yes, I'll go to the formal with you."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Allison. I'm not interested in going to the dance."

The smile on Allison's face quickly dropped. "What?"

"You heard him," Lucy piped up from behind the more popular girl, a smirk on her face.

Embarrassment turned Allison cruel, and she rounded on Lucy with a snarl. "Well, obviously that means he's not interested in going with _you_ either, you mousy little flat-chested geek. It's pathetic that you think he'd ever want _you_."

Allison flounced away, leaving a shocked Dean and Lucy behind. He looked at her, trying to catch her eye, but she turned from him too fast. He saw that a furious blush was making its way across her cheeks.

"Lucy!" Dean called out, just as she pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom and disappeared inside.

He slammed his locker shut.

She avoided him for the rest of the day, but that was OK because he knew he'd be able to talk to her when they met for tutoring after school. However, the note she left inside his locker later that afternoon told him that she wasn't feeling well, so they'd have to cancel.

Dean's mouth settled into a firm line.

Thirty minutes later, he was on her front porch and ringing the doorbell. She finally opened the door, but avoided his eyes. "Didn't you get my note?"

"I did."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because it's bull, and you know it."

"Look, Dean. I know-"

"Will you go to the dance with me?"

She finally met his gaze, unable to hide the smile that burst upon her lips. It quickly died however. "I don't want to be your pity date, Dean."

"What?! You're not."

"You and I both know that Allison is right – I'm not the kind of girl you're going to date."

Dean reached out and grabbed her shoulders, forcing Lucy to look at him again. "I've wanted to be with you for almost as long as I've known you." He pulled her forward into a kiss.

* * *

The next couple weeks did wonders for Dean's education about women. It turns out Lucy was the type of girl that wanted to experiment – in fact she experimented more than most of the girls he had spent time with. And they had the perfect, parental-approved opportunities to do so because of their tutoring sessions. Many a time, the textbooks were left unopened on the floor, while the two teenagers stretched out on the couch, exploring each other with hot, fumbling hands, heavy breath and lips that were quickly learning the best places to taste.

In school, they walked hand in hand down the hallways, drawing the attention and gossip of everyone else. Allison glared whenever she saw them, and Dean laughed whenever she did so because Lucy would start to strut and pull him close for a kiss.

The make-out sessions were soon becoming more and more intense. Dean didn't know how much more of it he could take. He had never felt so close and yet so far away from "going all the way."

One day, about a week before the formal, Dean rang the doorbell and let himself in, as he had been doing ever since they started…whatever this was. He found Lucy sitting on the couch waiting for him. Smiling, he dropped his backpack on the floor and leaned over her for a hello kiss. It quickly deepened, and Dean lowered his body on top of hers. She soon stopped him, though, pushing against his chest to lift him slightly off of her.

"Dean." She whispered. The blush was already spreading, and Dean found it cute that she still got embarrassed talking to him when they were like this. "I – I don't want to be a cliché. I don't want to do it with you on Friday night, after the dance."

Dean's brow furrowed. It's not like he hadn't been _thinking_ about that possibility, but he wasn't going to force her or anything. "That's okay."

She looked him straight in the eye, and for once didn't seem embarrassed at all. She said her next statement clearly and with conviction. "But I do want to do it."

Dean's mouth went dry, and all his blood and rational thought flowed southward. She smirked, knowing exactly what her words had done to him. "So I guess the only solution is to do it today…"

Dean continued to stare at her. He didn't want to risk saying anything – partially out of fear that he would wake up from this dream, and partially out of fear that his voice would betray him. Lucy continued to push against his chest until he was standing again. She stood herself, grabbed his hand and led him into her bedroom.

Once there, she pushed him backwards onto her mattress and straddled him. Bending over him, she kissed him deeply and started to unbutton his shirt. His mind was too addled to tell his brain to do anything, so for a minute he just laid there. In all his fantasies about losing his virginity, he never once thought that he would be the one seduced. He always saw himself as some smooth Cassanova, making a girl come multiple times, knowing exactly what to do and being in complete control of the experience. Right now, he didn't think he could control his pinky finger.

When her hands went down his pants, however, he snapped himself out of it and instinct took over. With a groan, he flipped her over and started to work over her body, using what he had learned about her preferences during the last couple weeks to make her squirm underneath him. A few minutes later, they were both naked, and Dean was pulling out the condom he had in his wallet. He had had it there for awhile now, out of wishful thinking, and was now glad of this forethought.

Pausing before he entered her, he looked questioningly into her eyes, giving her one last time to say no. When she didn't, he took the last step, relishing in the feel of her around him.

It was wonderful and awkward, and beautiful and messy, and amazing and not quite what he had imagined.

And secretly…he was glad it hadn't happened before now. He was glad it happened with someone like Lucy.

* * *

On Thursday night, John told Sam and Dean they would be moving after school let out on Friday. For the first time ever, Dean fought and protested and begged for more time, but John wouldn't budge. Dean finally bit the bullet and explained he had plans to go to a dance on Friday night, causing Sam to start teasing him mercilessly. John just apologized and said Dean would have to break those plans because it was time for them to go. They had to make it to California within a couple days to take care of a werewolf there.

Dean felt sick to his stomach when he saw Lucy at school Friday morning. He pulled her aside, down a side hallway.

"Dean! I'm going to be late to class!"

"We have to talk." She could tell by his tone that it was something bad, and fear jumped into her eyes.

"What is it?"

"We're moving."

Tears started to build up and roll down her cheeks. Dean's heart clenched at the sight, and he lifted a hand to wipe them away.

"When?"

Dean cringed, looking away. "Tonight. Right after school."

Lucy gasped. "What? How long have you known about this?"

"My dad just told us last night. I'm so, so sorry. I tried really hard to get him to wait at least until Saturday."

Lucy rested her head against Dean's chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Dean, I don't care about the stupid _dance_. I just don't want you to leave!"

"I know. I don't want to leave either. I'm going to miss you."

They stood in silence for awhile, with Dean feeling guilty the more he heard her quiet sniffles.

"OK, I lied. I do care about the dance a little bit," Lucy said in a small, embarrassed voice.

Dean chuckled, and started to sway them back and forth. She laughed too, and wrapped her arms around his shoulder. He sang softly into her ear the song they had first danced to when she was teaching him. The bell rang, jarring them out of the spell he had weaved around them.

She pulled away, wiping away the tears from her eyes. Dean looked down at her with a sad, soft smile. "I don't know if this will help at all…but if it makes you feel any better, I won't ever dance with anybody else."

Lucy burst out laughing. "Now I would feel horrible if you never danced again. You're too good of a dancer!"

Dean smirked.

"Let's compromise," she said. "How about you promise to only ever dance with girls you really care about?"

"Deal."

* * *

When Dean came out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately narrowed as he saw Det. Grayson sitting a _little _too close to Emilia at the bar. And he tried to ignore the spark of jealousy that rose up in him, as she laughed at something he said in a way too flirtatious way.

For a second, he couldn't move. He just stood there, staring, nostrils flaring, fists clenched.

Then he reminded himself he didn't have the right to be jealous.

The anger faded to a sadness that he didn't want to examine too closely, as Emilia followed the detective out onto the dance floor. Sighing, Dean went over to the bar, asked the bartender to let her know that he was leaving, and then did so without a backwards glance.

Back at the hotel room, Dean sprawled out on the bed, flipping on the TV. He didn't even have a chance to find something halfway decent to watch before the hotel room door slammed open to reveal a pissed-off Emilia.

"You just _left _me there! What the hell Dean?"

Dean turned his attention back to the screen, answering her in nonchalant voice that he hoped hid the pain he was really feeling. "I figured you would be OK with Det. Grayson."

Unfortunately, she seemed to see right through him, scoffing and putting her hands on her hips. "Don't you dare! You don't get to be jealous. I can talk to whoever the hell I want to."

The anger that had bubbling under the surface erupted in Dean, and he stood to face her, tossing the remote onto the bed. "Well, sure you do. But you don't have to throw my face in it."

"You mean like _you_ did to me?! At least I know _his name_!" Emilia was across the room in a flash, one hand raised to slap Dean as a sort of punctuation mark to her words. He grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, but instead of forcing her away from him, he used it to pull her closer to him.

He attacked her lips with his own with a fierce growl. Pushing her down on the bed underneath him, his fingers moved roughly, possessively over her body. He had her pants undone before he came back to his senses and pushed himself off of her with a groan.

He was at the hotel door when a strangled sob stopped him. He turned back around to see Emilia right behind him. Her hair was tousled, makeup all over her face, eyes wild, tears on her cheeks, clothes disheveled. She had never looked more beautiful to him, and his hands ached to reach out and grab her again.

"Please." She whispered. "Please Dean. I don't _care_ anymore if you don't want a relationship. I'll take whatever I can get – an hour, a night, a week. Anything. Please…just don't walk away from me again."

Dean took her against the hotel door. It was better than he remembered, better than he could have imagined.

But at the same time, a part of his heart burned in pain, knowing that he had only a little more than four weeks with her, knowing that four decades wouldn't be enough.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18 – But surely heaven waits for you_

The case had been over for a week already, but Dean hadn't yet driven himself and Emilia back to Bobby's. They stayed in town, enjoying lazy days and passionate nights together. Dean showed Emilia things from his past – his high school, the garage he worked at, the library Sam would spend all his time at.

He never explained why he was telling Emilia so much about his past. She was just happy that he was finally opening up to her. She never asked why he was doing so – she didn't want to risk him clamming up again. And she never told him that, the more he told her about himself, the more she fell in love with him. She didn't want to risk pushing him away again, after all.

She also never asked why they hadn't yet left town. Emilia had meant what she said – she would take whatever she could get, no matter how small an amount of time it was. And, for her, the longer they stayed in town, the longer she got to have Dean.

For his part, Dean was just trying to slow down time. He knew it wasn't true, but part of him thought that being here, where no one knew that he was down to less than a month to live, meant that it wasn't true. _He_ could pretend it wasn't true.

The second he got back to Bobby's, it would all come crashing back.

Here, he could just … _be_.

* * *

Dean was the first to wake up. He usually was. He had _never_ been an early riser before, but now it seemed like his body subconsciously knew it wasn't a good idea to waste any of the time he had left.

Emilia was still sound asleep, encircled by his arms. One of her legs stretched out over his, and her head rested against his chest. She was still wiped out, he guessed, and a smirk of self-satisfaction flashed across his face as he thought about the night before. He ran a hand softly down her bare back, relishing the feel of her smooth skin while also trying not to wake her up.

Dean's phone vibrated on the bedside table, and he grabbed it and looked at the display. He scrunched his face in alarm when he saw it was Father Aaron. Concerned that something was still going on at the church, Dean carefully disentangled himself from Emilia and went into the bathroom to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dean! Where are you?"

"We're still in town."

"Hmm. I thought maybe you were. Bobby called the other day to ask why it was taking you guys so long to solve the case. I told him we had figured it out a week ago. He's very concerned about you two."

Dean closed his eyes. He knew their _vacation_ would end sooner or later, but he wasn't ready for it to end yet. "I'll call him later. We…just didn't feel like leaving yet."

"Is everything OK?"

"Uh…yeah. I've gotta go, Father." Dean hung up the phone, hoping the priest couldn't tell how much everything was _not_ okay with him.

In fact, despite having a wonderful time with Emilia the last week, his mind had been working in over drive, trying to name the feelings that had been building up in him ever since the priest solved the case using last rites. The feelings were almost as troublesome to him as those he constantly had about his impending death. He was good at hiding both sets of feelings from Emilia, but he couldn't hide them from himself.

Now, after talking to the priest, the strange feelings were even stronger. He needed to get out for awhile, to think. Silently opening the bathroom door, he saw that Emilia was still asleep. Pulling on some clothes, he left a note saying he'd be back soon, and let himself out the motel door.

He didn't know how or why it happened, but shortly after leaving the hotel, Dean found himself at Father Aaron's church. It was empty, dimly lit and quiet this mid-morning, and Dean moved with his customary stealth toward the front. Father Aaron was nowhere to be seen.

Dean sat down in the front pew.

He stared straight ahead, drinking in the sight of the cross, the altar, the flowers – all the typical accoutrements of a church. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice at first when Father Aaron sat down next to him. It startled him when the priest asked if something was the matter.

Dean sat quietly for a minute, unsure of how to answer Father Aaron's question but, for the first time in his life, wanting desperately to _talk_ to someone about his feelings. He sneered at himself, thinking that it was a good thing Sammy wasn't here to witness this.

When he did start to talk, he was staring straight ahead again. His voice was quiet, contemplative, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than to Father Aaron.

"You know, I never used to have faith. I never believed in God. My mother did, but I – I believed in things I could see. Things I could fight. And I never questioned my lack of faith. Until a case a little while ago…" Dean sighed. "_Something_ happened on that case, and I've been wondering about it ever since. And now…now I'm wondering even more. Emilia and I didn't try to kill ourselves. Neither did you. That means the last rites worked on the journal."

Dean was quiet again, but something told Father Aaron that he wasn't quite done.

"It's almost enough to make me believe in God." Dean let out a sad, wry little chuckle.

"Isn't that a good thing, Dean?"

Dean finally turned to look at the older man, who was shocked at the utter pain and despair that darkened the hunter's face. "No, Father Aaron, it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because if there's a God, then there's a heaven. And my mom is there, and I know Sammy is going to go there, and I can hope that my Dad made it there, after crawling his way out of hell. But I'll never get to go there with them."

Father Aaron's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do you think you won't go to heaven when you die, Dean?"

The hunter sighed, then launched into the dreadful tale of the deal he made and its consequences. The priest's eyes widened as the story unfolded. Both men were quiet for awhile at the end of Dean's story, as the priest tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

"Well…" Father Aaron said, after what seemed like an interminable silence. "You still have time."

Dean chuckled. "That's what Sam thinks too – he's desperately seeking a solution right now."

Father Aaron smiled, shaking his head. "No, I mean there's still time to ask for God's help."

Dean shot the priest a skeptical look. "I think it's going to take a little more than prayer, Father."

"Dean…do you _honestly_ think that God couldn't get you out of a contract with a demon? There is _nothing_ beyond his power. All you have to do is believe."

Temptation warred with doubt in Dean's mind. Could it be as simple as that?

Hell, he wasn't even sure if he _did_ believe, so it didn't seem likely he had enough faith for it to work, even if he did ask for help.

But, as usual, thoughts of Sammy made his decision for him. Dean shook his head, and avoided the priest's questioning look. "I – I can't, Father. I can't take the chance that the demon would count that as trying to welch my way out of the deal."

Father Aaron sighed. "I don't think Sam would think his earthly life is worth your eternal one."

"It's not going to happen. I haven't gone through this last year just to lose Sammy now."

* * *

When Dean let himself back into the hotel room, Emilia was awake. The happiness that had exuded from her for the last week was gone, and Dean wondered what she was upset about. He didn't have to wait long.

"Bobby called, wondering why we hadn't come back after solving the case. We…better head back."

Dean just looked at her for a second, not wanting to answer, not yet wanting to break the spell that had kept them happily cocooned for the last week. Breaking their eye contact first, Dean nodded and picked his duffel bag off the floor to pack.

They didn't speak on the drive back. Dean silently reached for Emilia's hand as they left the hotel, not relinquishing it once during the trip except when necessary for driving. Emilia knew that something was about to change, and held his hand tightly in return, offering him her strength and love with her body since he wouldn't accept her words.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19 – Carry on my wayward son _

Maia groaned and rolled over in bed, half awake even though it was still too early to even think about getting up. Stretching out a hand for Sam, she realized his side of the bed was cold as ice. She sat up to find him sitting on the windowsill, looking out over the moonlit, quiet junkyard.

"Sam?" She whispered, and he turned to her. Her heart broke at the sight of his worried, exhausted and discouraged face.

"Sorry. Go back to bed. I'll be there in a sec."

Maia instead crawled out from under the covers and crossed the room to join him. She ran a hand through his hair. Sam hesitated, then broke, pulling her toward him so he could bury his face into her stomach. She held the back of his head, as he wrapped his long arms around her. Maia could feel his warm breath through the thinness of her cotton tank top, could feel his hot, silent tears start to dampen it.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. We'll find something…" Maia whispered.

Sam let out a wry chuckle that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. "Dean's been watching out for me my whole life, and I can't do this one thing for him. I'm the one that's supposed to be special, the one who's supposed to have the power… and yet…I feel so _fucking_ helpless."

_You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes; I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a_ _change._

_How long will it take you to realize you can't save your brother…no matter what?_

The memories and words had been replaying in Sam's head for weeks. The closer the end came without a solution in sight, the guiltier Sam felt. He was the researcher of the family. How hard it could be to find?

* * *

The sleepless nights were beginning to catch up with Sam, and he was on his third cup of coffee for the day. The computer screen had started to give him a headache, so he had switched to flipping through some of Bobby's tomes – just in case he missed something the last three times he looked in them. The sound of an engine pulling into the yard and then cutting off caused Sam to smile for the first time in days, while at the same time he was disappointed he didn't have good news for his brother to come back to.

He made his way toward the front door, reaching it just as it opened to reveal Dean and Emilia and their duffel bags. The welcoming smile on Sam's face widened in surprise and amusement as he saw that Dean was clutching her hand.

"Not a word."

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, but couldn't wipe the grin off his face. A blush spread across Emilia's face. She dropped Dean's hand and mumbled something about unpacking before escaping the room.

"So…" Sam started, in his best kid-brother teasing tone.

"I mean it, not a word." Dean's eyes flashed to the staircase and then back to Sam. "And not a word to her either, about _other things_."

Sam did a double-take. "You still haven't told her?"

Dean sighed. "At first, I just wanted to enjoy my last few weeks with her without her _pity_. Now…now, I don't know _how_ to tell her."

Dropping his duffel bag on the floor and shrugging out of his coat, Dean avoided Sam's eyes for his next comment, afraid to see what was there. "Speaking of…?"

Dean didn't have to be looking at Sam to _feel_ his brother cringe. His voice was pained, as if he was the one facing death and hell. "Nothing yet. I'm sorry."

Dean nodded, fighting the lump in his throat.

Ten minutes later, Emilia came back downstairs, joining the brothers, Maia and Bobby in the kitchen for lunch.

"Where's Jo?" She asked.

Sam and Bobby exchanged a look, and Dean had a funny feeling about it. Bobby answered, "She went to see Ellen at the new Roadhouse for a while. She should be back in a couple weeks."

"Oh…OK." Emilia continued on, not suspecting anything. Dean, meanwhile, bored holes into the side of Sam's head, but his brother wouldn't meet his gaze.

* * *

Wiped out from the drive, Emilia went to bed early that night. Dean was wide awake, staring out into the empty darkness as he sat on the front stoop as he did the night of Maia's arrival. The front door creaked open, and he turned to watch Sam's girlfriend join him.

They sat in silence for awhile, thinking heavy thoughts. Maia was the first to break it.

"Dean…I'm sorry. I really thought we were going to find something. And now, I have to go back tomorrow…"

Dean shook his head, brushing off her apology. "I admit I was hoping you would find something, but I never really expected you to. Thanks for trying, though."

"Of course."

Silence fell again, except for the occasional sniffle that emanated from Maia. When she reached up to wipe away a tear that had started trickling down her cheek, Dean cleared his throat.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

Maia looked at him in shock. "Sure."

"Watch out for him. Love him. Don't let him lose himself in fighting and grieving. Convince him to have the normal life he wants. It would be ridiculous if we both lost out on a chance at life. He deserves one so much."

"Of course," Maia repeated, this time hardly louder than a whisper as she tried to convey just how much she took this promise seriously. "You don't have to worry; I'll take care of him."

For the first time since she joined him, Dean met Maia's eyes. His own were bright, happy and sad all at the same time. "Thanks…That's all I need to know."

* * *

True to his word, Bobby had worked on the Impala while they were gone. Within a week of their return, it was road-ready, much to Dean's delight and Emilia's dismay. She figured now that it was fixed, it was only a matter of time before the Winchesters hit the road and … whatever _this_ was would come to an end.

On the other hand, it had already lasted a lot longer than she expected it to. She wasn't expecting him to continue being with her when they came back, but to her surprise, he was very attentive. They went on long walks, he took her to dinner, he held her close in bed at night. They were in her room, and Sam was back downstairs, on the pull out couch, now that both Maia and Jo were gone.

And it might have just been her imagination, but he was more _intense_ in bed too. It had always been good, of course, but now there almost seemed to be a desperation in Dean. Like he couldn't get close enough to her, like he couldn't get enough of her. Not that she was complaining… She just knew that it would be that much more difficult for her when he left her in his rearview mirror.

Emilia's fear of their imminent departure was not alleviated at all by the fact that Sam spent most of his time in the kitchen, on the computer. She just _knew_ he was looking for a new job. She felt guilty about it, but with each passing day, she secretly hoped he wouldn't find _whatever_ it was he was looking for…

* * *

It had been two weeks since their return now, and Emilia was almost beginning to secretly think that Dean wouldn't be leaving her any time soon.

He would take her on drives in the Impala, but never said anything about hitting the road for good. In fact, the only downside to the last week was that Dean…really wasn't _saying_ much of anything.

It took Emilia a while to notice that because the joy she was feeling about him still being there caused her to chatter incessantly at him. He didn't seem to mind; he would just smile at her, grab her hand, kiss her, tell her to keep talking whenever she asked him if she was talking too much. But then she realized that there was always something on his mind during their conversations. She could see it in his eyes, in his shuttered face. She wasn't mad at him for not paying attention – she knew she wasn't talking about anything of value. But she was a little upset that _he _wasn't talking to _her_.

Strangely enough, it seemed like Sam was more anxious than Dean about just sitting at Bobby's. With every passing day, he was clearly more upset, more frustrated. He was starting to get a weird glint in his eyes and, today, his hair was sticking up in clumps, a visible sign of the hours of research he had just finished.

Emilia wanted to bring it up to Dean, but she also didn't want to have the conversation either, fearing he might then tell her they'd be leaving the very next day.

She really didn't know what was up with Bobby either. Most of the time, he was holed up in the kitchen with Sam. Some of the time, he was on the phone, calling various sources about something he wouldn't share with her. The rest of the time, he would steal Dean away from her, to do nothing more than sit out in the junkyard and have a couple of beers. Sometimes she would watch from the window, and she noticed that they very rarely _talked_. They just sat there in companionable silence. Once in awhile they did talk – well, Bobby talked and Dean sat there with a far off expression on his face. And today, Bobby stood abruptly and moved in front of Dean, blocking his body from the view of the window. She could just barely see Dean bending over, hand over his face.

If she didn't know Dean better…she could've sworn he had been crying…

All in all, she was beginning to suspect something big was going on. She was just too afraid of what the answer would be to ask what it was…

* * *

Bobby took a long pull on his beer bottle, staring straight ahead. The last couple days, he had recognized in Dean a desperate need to just get away – away from the constant worries of Sam, the constant reminder that his year was up in 9 days. Bobby knew that he sometimes even needed to get away from Emilia, had to be somewhere where he didn't have to pretend that everything was OK. Ultimately, Bobby knew that Dean just needed some quiet time to come to terms with his death – try to accept it was going to happen, even if, now more than ever, he didn't want it to.

Glancing at the window, Bobby saw Emilia watching them and knew she was concerned and suspicious. "Are you going to tell her?"

"No." Dean's answer was short, abrupt, and Bobby knew better than to ask why or convince him to do otherwise…at least for now.

Silence reigned for a while, but inside Bobby was remembering a conversation he and Dean had in the junkyard a little less than a year ago. A conversation he wasn't exactly proud of…

"Look, Dean. I wanted to apologize. I said … some pretty horrible things to you when all this went down."

"Well, they were true too, Bobby." Dean said resignedly. Bobby looked at him, surprised. The Dean of a year ago would never have admitted that someone was right when they said he had a low opinion of himself.

"Well, that still doesn't excuse them." Bobby sighed. "I was mad at you, Dean, for throwing your life away. But I was more scared than mad. I've said it before, and I'll always believe it. You and Sam…you're _my_ sons just as much as your John's. You're the closest I'll ever get, and I love you both. I didn't – I _don't­_ – want to think about you suffering."

Bobby was quiet for awhile, trying to think of how to phrase everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted Dean to know. Dean cleared his throat, blinking rapidly.

"But, Dean, ultimately I _do_ understand why you did it. I know how much Sam means to you. You are…an _amazing _brother. I'm still mad at you for the choice you made…but I'm proud as hell too."

To Bobby's surprise, Dean broke at his words. The strong, stubborn, stoic fighter had tears running down his face, and he lifted one hand to hide them. Taking pity on Dean, knowing he wouldn't want people to see him like this, Bobby stood and hid him from the view of the window. A lump rose in his own throat as Dean's shoulders shook and sobs ripped their way out of him. Bobby lifted one hand and placed it on Dean's head, wordlessly offering a father's love as Dean cried.

* * *

Emilia was in the shower, so Dean took that time to track down Sam and ask him what the progress was. His brother had a haunted look in his eyes, and it clearly killed him a second time to tell Dean that he still hadn't found anything. Dean swallowed and nodded, avoiding Sam's eyes.

"But I _will_, Dean."

Dean hesitated, then shook his head. "No…you won't."

"Dean!"

"You won't, Sammy. We have to start facing that fact."

"I won't give up, Dean. I won't."

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Alright. I'll give you another six days, Sammy. If you haven't found anything by then, we're using the last three days to go on a hunt. I'm _going_ to go out fighting. I'm gonna take _something_ with me."

"But Dean!"

"You heard me, Sammy."


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20 – There'll be peace when you are done_

Over the next few days, Dean realized that time could pass so quickly and so slowly all at the same time. Hours would pass and he'd realize he hadn't actually _done_ anything during that time. He'd mentally yell at himself for wasting what little was left. Other times – usually when he was spending time with Emilia – he'd feel like time was going too fast to say what he wanted to say, do what he wanted to do…and then he'd look at the clock to see only a few minutes had elapsed.

Strangely, there were times when he would _forget_ what was going to happen in a couple days. Other times … well, it weighed on him so much he wanted to just put his gun to his head and end it all now rather than have to wait for one more _minute_.

He thought more and more about the past, about the moments that had defined him, about the moments he regretted and the moments he would remember with a smile even while suffering the deepest torments of hell. He regretted not taking more opportunities to live a normal life, like Sam had done; but he also didn't regret a single moment of hunting, knowing that he had _at least_ made a difference during his short time on earth. All the lives he had saved…they more than made up for his lack of a life.

The closer the day came, however, the more the fear grew inside of him. He had admitted to Sam a couple times that he was _scared_ of going to hell. Who the hell wouldn't be, after all? But what he hadn't admitted was that it was more than the idea of hell that scared him. It was the idea of being alone that was the worst. For as far back as he could remember, Sammy was at his side – or, at least, on his mind. Now, it would just be Dean Winchester, not the Winchester brothers. He…didn't know who he was without Sammy. If he didn't know who he was, how would he find the courage to remember himself, remember his humanity, stop himself from becoming a demon?

* * *

The early morning light peeked in through the curtains, but Dean was already wide awake, lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Emilia was sleeping, and he was almost angry at her for being able to do so. He had to remind himself that she didn't know that there was a reason to be sleepless.

It was the last day Sammy had to find a solution. The deadline Dean imposed on him would end today. Dean felt nauseous, and his heart nearly hummed in anxiety. A part of him wanted to tell Sam to ignore the idea of the deadline – to keep looking until the very last second if necessary. Another part of him told himself to just _accept_ it already, and stick to his guns about wanting to take something out with him when he went.

Rolling off the bed, Dean went downstairs, expecting Sam to already be working. He was right. The brothers shared a look, both acknowledging how weird it was for them to be up and moving at 5:30 a.m., both wondering how long the other one had actually been awake already.

Grabbing a cup of coffee from the pot Sam had brewed, Dean took a seat next to his brother, who had switched again from the computer to the texts. Dean reached out and flipped through one of the books, not paying attention to what was written on the pages, just needing something to do so he could hide the shaking of his hands.

"Any luck?" Dean asked in a tone that sounded more like he was asking what was on TV instead of talking about life or death.

Sam didn't answer. When the silence started to concern Dean, he finally looked up to meet his brother's eyes. The sick, pale expression on Sam's face was all the answer Dean needed. He nodded and returned his gaze to the text.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." Sam whispered, his words dripping with agony.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Sam."

"I was so sure I would find something. I _had_ to find something. I told you – it was my turn to save your ass for a change."

Dean smiled. "Sam, you tried."

"Dean." Sam stressed, causing Dean to look up in alarm at the sound of desperation and self-blame in Sam's voice. "You've taken care of me my entire life. And I can't do _this one thing _for you. You're my brother. I should have been able to do this for you. It's the least I could do…"

"Sam…" Dean interrupted, his voice close to breaking. It hurt to see Sam beating up on himself, knowing that in a roundabout way he had caused Sam to feel pain. He realized that, in his effort to protect his brother, he hurt him more than anyone else could. Knowing that his sacrifice had such a negative effect on Sam was the first thing that made him actually start to regret his decision … but not completely. After all, Sam was still alive to feel the pain.

"Sam," he repeated, trying to come up with the words to express his feelings. They were four days away still, but for some reason, Dean felt he was actually saying goodbye now, and he had to say what he needed to say. "You say I've always taken care of you. Don't you realize that _you_ were the one that always took care of me?"

"_What_?"

"_You've_ been the one protecting me. Protecting me from my self, from becoming like Dad. You know, I'm scared of becoming a demon after going to hell…but, if it wasn't for you, I would have been a demon a long time ago – only concerned about the fight, about hunting. You've kept me sane, Sam. You've kept me human. You constantly remind me what it is to love… And for that, I will always be grateful."

Dean roughly cleared his throat, and refrained from any teasing comments as he saw Sam reach up to quickly wipe moisture from his eyes.

"Now, Sammy… now, you have today still, but don't forget – as of tomorrow, we're hunting."

Sam shook his head obstinately. "No, Dean. No. I changed my mind. We're not hunting, we're not wasting time."

"Sam! You just admitted you weren't going to find anything."

"That doesn't mean I can't _try_, Dean."

Dean sighed. "Sam, you know how I feel about this."

"I know. I know, Dean. But I can't…_ I can't_ just sit back and watch you die, Dean. I won't." Sam stood and stormed out of the room, leaving Dean to watch his retreat. A look of calm yet disappointed resignation settled over Dean's features.

"OK, Sammy… you won't have to."

* * *

Yet again Emilia wondered what was going on. From the silent treatment they were giving each other, she suspected Sam and Dean had fought about something. She would have asked Dean about it, but he was out in the yard with Bobby again.

Watching from the window, Emilia noted the stress in Dean, the stress that was never far from the surface these days. She noted the restlessness in him, the energy that flowed off of him in waves. And, not having any reason to suspect anything else, she knew that he would be leaving soon. That it would be over.

And she admitted to herself that she had lied. She did want more from him than whatever time he was willing to give. Maybe at the time she had been telling the truth. But when she had said it, she hadn't been expecting him to turn into this …super-boyfriend. It made her think that maybe he had been lying too, that he did want a relationship.

As crazy as it was, she began to daydream. Maybe he would take her with him and Sam. Maybe he would finally admit that he wanted to be with her. He would probably never want a white picket fence, two kids and a dog. But she didn't either! Maybe, though…maybe they could still make a home…could still make a life together…could still grow old together…

Was that too much to ask for?

* * *

"You're still not going to tell her?" Bobby asked. "Don't you think she has a _right_ to know?"

"No, Bobby. And you're not going to tell her either."

"Why, Dean? Why are you keeping this from her?"

"Because she doesn't need to worry about it, she doesn't need to dread it. You know as well as I how much it's affected the three of us – she doesn't have to go through that too. We only have a little while left together; I want her to be able enjoy it, not have this hanging over her head."

"Well, after you're…, she's gonna be pissed that she wasn't warned."

"Yeah…and that's why you and Sam aren't going to tell her then either. She'll just have to assume it was _my time to go_. And she most certainly does _not_ have to know that I'm in hell. OK?"

Bobby gave Dean an exasperated look, additional arguments on the tip of his tongue.

"_Okay?"_

Bobby sighed and nodded his head.

* * *

The fourth to last day came to an end. Sam figured he had won, as Dean asked no questions about what hunt they would be going on, made no comments about leaving the next day. Instead, he sat on the couch, one arm around Emilia as they watched TV and laughed with Bobby. In fact, Dean looked like he didn't have a care in the world, and it made Sam happy to see that. He was doing enough worrying for the both of them…

* * *

The second their bedroom door was closed, Dean pushed Emilia against it and kissed her deeply. She moaned against his mouth, trying to deepen it and accelerate the passion between them. It surprised her that he resisted, instead moving slowly, softly, seductively.

He had never really been like this before. She could see a wonder in his eyes as he drank in the sight of her naked body, following the path of his sight with the soft, reverent touch of his fingers. He hovered over her, and she stared up at him in the dark, breathless and quivering. She felt vulnerable and protected all at the same time. They stared at each other the entire time, wordlessly communicating.

He moved inside of her excruciatingly slowly, drawing out the experience for both of them until she was ready to shriek in need. He worshipped her body, kissing, touching, gazing everywhere he could reach.

Emilia's heart swelled as she realized they were making love.

* * *

Dean wrapped his arms around her afterward, holding her close against his warm body. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was still looking at her, and a smile flitted across her lips. Emilia entwined her fingers with his, examining the way their hands fit together so well, playing with his thumb until he softly chuckled behind her. She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. Their eyes met in the dark, and Emilia almost cried at the emotion she saw in him. She reached out her free hand to place it against his skin, over his still fast-beating heart.

He smiled down at her, and then pulled her close so that her face was buried in his chest. She breathed in the smell of him, relaxing in the feel of him so much that she was almost asleep when he finally spoke.

"Emilia…I love you."

* * *

Dean grunted in exertion as he pushed the Impala down the moonlit road. He was trying to get a distance from the house before starting the car, not wanting the sound of his baby roaring to life to let anyone know that he was sneaking out on them.

Sam didn't want to see him die.

Dean didn't want Emilia to see him die.

Dean knew it was time to face his destiny … on his own.


	21. Chapter 21

_Sniff_. For those of you keeping track through the lyrics, you know there's only one chapter left after this. I'm sad...I really enjoyed writing this (and the prequel). Therefore, if anyone has any plot suggestions or anything for another Supernatural story from me, let me know - it can fit with these two stories, or it can be something new and different!

_Chapter 21- Lay your weary head to rest_

Sam groaned and dug the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. He promised himself that, once he found a solution, he'd sleep for a freakin' _week_ straight. He rolled off the pull-out couch, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. The fact that the couch wasn't quite long enough didn't help, of course... Staggering into the kitchen, he started the coffee brewing, feeling better just from the smell of it.

He turned to look at the kitchen table, which still had all of Bobby's books on it from the night before. Sam felt overwhelmed, unsure of where to start, knowing that if he picked the wrong place, it would just take that much longer to find the solution. And he didn't have time to waste on useless research.

Sighing, he poured himself the first of countless cups of coffee he planned to consume that day, and carried it over to the table. He sat down and reached for a book.

A couple hours passes before Sam finally heard the sounds of another human being stirring. Strangely enough, it wasn't heard from upstairs, but from the front door. Standing up to stick his head out of the kitchen, he saw Jo letting herself in, trying to be quiet at this still early hour.

"Hey." Sam said, causing Jo to jump into the air and clutch a hand to her chest.

"God, Sam!"

"Sorry."

"Well, it's good to see you guys are still here. I was worried you weren't."

Sam cocked his head in confusion. "Where else would we be this close to the end?"

Jo nodded, dropping her bag to the floor. She bent down to pull a notebook out. "Well, I pretty much questioned every hunter that came into the Roadhouse. I also looked at as many of their research books as possible. Don't worry, I didn't tell them who was under the contract. I didn't want them to know that you might be on your own soon – seeing as how some of them are still … _unsure _about you."

Sam half-grinned. "That's one way of putting it. Any luck?"

Jo sighed, and waved the notebook toward Sam. "I have a few ideas, but nothing that really sticks out to me as possible… I'm sorry."

Sam swallowed, nodding his head before turning to head back to his own research. Jo followed him in and sat down next to him. "So where'd Dean go so early? Or is he just not home yet?"

Sam's head shot up in alarm. "What do you mean?"

Now it was Jo's turn to look confused. "Well…that's why I thought you guys might have left – the Impala's gone."

Sam's face drained of color. He shot up out of his chair, looked out the window to confirm Jo's words, and then ran upstairs, still hoping that it wasn't true. He slammed open the door to Emilia's bedroom, causing her to sit up straight in bed with a yelp.

"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded.

Emilia glanced over at his side of the bed, even though it was obvious he wasn't there. "I don't know."

Sam turned to go back downstairs, almost knocking over Jo, who had followed him up there. She took his spot in the middle of the open doorway, a teasing smirk on her face. "So…Emilia…why on earth did Sam come up to your bedroom looking for Dean?"

Emilia blushed, giving Jo all the answer she needed. The blonde started crowing happily, jumping into the room to hug her friend. "Well, now I'm more motivated than _ever_ to find a way out for Dean. We can't have him dying on you now, can we?"

The red of the blush quickly drained out of Emilia's face as she stared at her friend in concern. "What?"

The smile died on Jo's lips as she realized Emilia still didn't know. The look on the other woman's face, however, told her that she had already said too much to just brush it off now. "You…better come downstairs, so Sam and I can tell you what's going on."

Ten minutes later, Jo and Sam were looking at Emilia in concern, as she sat at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He didn't want you to have to worry about him, like everyone else," Bobby said from the kitchen doorway, as he came in to join his young houseguests. He cleared his throat and tossed a piece of paper onto the table in front of Sam. It was folded in half and had _Sammy_ scratched on the front of it in Dean's illegible scrawl. "Found this shoved under my door this morning."

Sam reached out and slowly picked it up, afraid of what he'd find written there. The others watched him as he read the words, tears springing up in his eyes as he did so. After he read the words through once, he cleared his throat and said roughly, "Well, that confirms it. Dean left…_Sammy, I'm sorry for leaving like this. I know you don't want to see me die, and I don't want you to have to. But like I said, I can't just sit here waiting for it. Please forgive me. Don't let this ruin your life…go on and live a great life – or I'll crawl my way out of hell and kick your ass. Tell Bobby thanks, and that he's one of the best fathers a guy could ask for. Tell Emilia I love her. Dean."_

By the time he finished reading, the others were also fighting tears. Sam, though, was now past sadness and onto anger. He threw the letter back on the table, and fairly growled. "Why the hell did he leave? Why'd he take these last few days away from me?"

Sam dropped back into his chair, putting his head into his hands and letting out a deep sigh, the anger gone as quickly as it had come. "Just because I said I didn't want to see him die doesn't mean that I didn't want to be there to say goodbye."

* * *

Dean slammed the door of the Impala and started trudging to his destination. When he had left Bobby's in the middle of the night, he wasn't sure where he was going to go, but the car seemed to know and drove him here. It made sense too, to come back to where it all began.

Ringing the doorbell, Dean smiled when Jenny opened it. "Dean!"

"Hey, Jenny. How are you and the kids doing? Any more troubles?"

Jenny smiled and shook her head. "No, nothing. Everything's quiet now."

"That's good to hear. Listen, do you mind if I just go upstairs for awhile?"

Jenny shook her head, but was obviously concerned.

"Don't worry, nothing's wrong. I just … was feeling a little nostalgic."

Dean trudged slowly up the stairs, going not to Sammy's old room with all its bad memories, but to _his_ old room with all its good ones. It was the children's playroom now, but he sat down cross-legged in the middle of it, closing his eyes and picturing it how it used to be. His bed in the corner, with its Superman sheets. His Legos spread out across the middle of the floor – always leading to a muffled curse whenever John stepped on one of them. Action figures piled in a corner. The sweet, subtle smell of his mother's perfume when she leaned over to kiss him good night; the gruff, loving voice of his father as they played with his train tracks together.

As much as it shamed him to do so, Dean let the tears start to fall. He hunched over his knees, burying his face in his arms. He cried for the kid he had been, for the man he could have become, for the father he'd never get to be.

* * *

Bobby shared a look with the two girls when they heard the sound of an engine drive into the lot and shut off. Before any of them could stand up to check it out, Sam came bursting into the room, a hopeful look on his face.

"C'mon, Sam. It's not an Impala – it's a Toyota. You know better than that."

Sam's shoulders hunched, and he nodded sheepishly. He may not know as much about cars as Bobby and Dean, but he knew it wasn't the Impala, deep down at least. He wasn't sure if he'd ever hear that familiar, home-like growl again.

Bobby made it to his front door just as someone knocked on it. Opening it, he was surprised to see Father Aaron, looking anxious but excited.

"Aaron?" "Father Aaron?" Bobby and Emilia asked simultaneously.

Father Aaron held up his Bible, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I've got it."

A strangled gasp caused the others to look at Sam. He had a hopeful, yet disbelieving expression on his face. He was afraid to accept the idea that a solution was found at this late hour, afraid to get his hopes up.

"Is Dean here?" Father Aaron asked, and the others shared a look.

"We don't know where Dean is," Bobby answered for them.

* * *

Dean had searched hard in the area surrounding Lawrence, but ironically there seemed to be no supernatural events going on. He had nothing to fight, and he was hours away from his last 24. He let out a wry chuckle, wondering how it could get any less _fair_.

Night had fallen a while ago, but Dean didn't plan to sleep anywhere that night. Instead, he used the moonlight to guide him through the quiet, still graveyard, making his way to their mother's tombstone. He sat down in front of it, staring at it, feeling the chill from the ground travel up into his bones. He reached out to trace her name in the stone, wishing desperately that he could see her one last time before the end.

He stayed there until dawn broke. It was almost peaceful, sitting among the dead. He felt a kind of camaraderie with them.

Dean watched the sun rise on his last day.

* * *

The front door opened as he was still walking up to the steps. The woman's voice squeaked out at him, and Dean couldn't help but grin despite his heavy thoughts. "Why, Dean Winchester. I knew you were coming a mile away. You poor, poor boy"

Missouri Moseley stepped aside as she ushered Dean into her house. He sat down on her couch, smirking as she pointed a finger at him in warning to behave himself on her furniture. She took a seat across from him and looked at him with a sad, apologetic expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know you came here hoping for some kind of answer, but I'm afraid I don't know how to help you."

Dean nodded in resignation. "I figured…had to take the chance, though, right?"

Missouri pressed her lips together firmly, reaching out to squeeze Dean's hand.

"I…I don't suppose you could tell me what will happen to Sam after I'm gone, can you?"

"You know it doesn't work like that, Dean. And I wouldn't tell you, even if I could see it. You need to be worrying about you right now, not your brother."

Dean barked in laughter. "It's too late for that, Missouri."

The hunter turned down the psychic's offer of lunch, choosing instead to go back to the hotel and search the local newspapers for a last ditch hunting opportunity. The older woman walked Dean to her door. He was half-way to the Impala when she called out to him.

"Trust in Sam, Dean. He's not done with you yet."

* * *

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion!


	22. Chapter 22

Sniff…it's over…I hope you all like it. Sorry it took me awhile to post, but you'll notice it's a fairly long chapter!

Just a note: I'm anti-"Wincest" because it's _incest_ for Pete's sake. But there's a joke in this chapter that I just couldn't resist making. You'll know it when you see it.

_Chapter 22 – Don't you cry no more_

The life and energy had gone out of Sam ever since Father Aaron had shown up . He was currently sitting on Bobby's couch, hunched over with his head in his hands. He just couldn't believe it. After a frickin' _year_ of searching, a possible solution lands in their laps the last day…and they had no idea where Dean was.

Father Aaron sat next to him, staring at the Bible in his hands, at a loss for words. It just didn't seem right that he wouldn't get here in time. When the idea came to him, he saw it as divine inspiration. It wouldn't make sense to get divine inspiration without divine timing.

After looking at the men without really seeing them for a long time, Emilia stormed out the front door, slamming it shut behind her and letting out a gasping rush of air. She was angry…at Dean for not telling her, for leaving…angry at herself for _being_ angry…angry at Father Aaron for coming too late, for showing them that they _could_ have stopped it, if only the stars had aligned…

Bobby looked at the large map of the area he had on his wall, mentally calculating a radius of Dean's possible travel. He sighed, knowing it was a hopeless exercise – there was no way of knowing exactly when he had left, how fast he had driven, how many stops he had made.

Yet…his eyes kept drifting back to the same spot on the map, a nagging thought tickling the back of his brain.

And that's when the phone rang.

Jo was closest to it. She grabbed it and answered in a hopeful voice, hand turning white at the knuckles as she squeezed the receiver. Emilia came back in, a questioning expression on her face. Everyone watched and became more hopeful as a smile started to slowly spread across Jo's face. She hung up the phone as if in a daze before turning to face Sam.

"That was your friend Missouri. Dean was in Lawrence as of this morning."

* * *

Dean stepped out of the darkness of the bar into the beating sun. He shielded his eyes as he looked up toward the sun, right in the middle of the sky. Noon. His last day was half over, and he had nothing to show for it yet.

He had been tempted to extend his beer with lunch into six or seven. Just get royally drunk and _enjoy_ his last couple hours. But, by chance, he had overheard some local yokels near him talking about the tragedy of their dogs being attacked by some kind of wolf the last couple of nights… "but it warn't like any kind of wolf they'd never seen bahfore."

Dean had himself a hunt…

Both men had said they walked their dogs in Riverfront Park, so that's where Dean decided to go first. He didn't think he'd find much in the middle of the afternoon, but there was nothing better to do than some preliminary research…

* * *

Sam, Bobby and Father Aaron left in Bobby's car, and Jo and Emilia followed them in Jo's car. Bobby was not usually as fast of a driver as Dean was, but currently Sam actually felt a little scared for his life…or at least of police speed traps.

Bobby was mumbling, and Sam wasn't quite sure if he was talking to them or to himself. "It takes about 9 hours to get to Lawrence from here. If we only make one stop, that should get us there by about 10, giving us two hours to find the boy and do the spell…" With those words, the older hunter turned abruptly to the priest.

"Do we need anything for the spell, Father Aaron?"

"No…and it's not a spell. It's more of a … ceremony."

Sam spoke up from the back seat. "What is it? We haven't really had a chance to talk about what this actually is. Is it really going to work?"

"I can't guarantee it, Sam, obviously. But I am pretty sure it will." Father Aaron twisted in the passenger seat so he could face Sam and Bobby at the same time. "It actually popped into my head when I was performing a wedding ceremony."

"Huh?"

Aaron smiled, having expected a similar reaction. "A verse commonly used in wedding ceremonies is from Mark, chapter 10: "And the two shall become one flesh; so they are no longer two, but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate."

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't get it. Dean has to get married? I don't understand how that will help him."

"No. Not _really_ married. I basically just want to bind his soul to another soul."

"Emilia's?"

Father Aaron smiled, and shook his head. "No. That won't really help for two reasons. One, that might be considered him trying to welch out of the deal, so he'd never go for it. Two, there's no real reason the demon still couldn't take Dean's soul even if it was bonded with Emilia's. In fact, if they did, that mean Emilia's soul would be fair game to them too."

"Then what?"

"We have to bond Dean's soul with a soul that the demon _cannot_ take. Yours, Sam.

* * *

cDean traipsed through Riverfront Park with about as little success as he expected. The only thing going for his impromptu hike was that it was a glorious day…He had just about given up when he turned the corner and found signs of a large wolf-like creature had eaten…something…there. Squatting next to the disgusting remains, Dean smiled. It _looked_ like it could be a werewolf. Maybe this meant he _would_ get to kill something before he bit it.

Making his way back to the Impala, he double-checked the trunk to make sure he had silver bullets on hand for later that night. Now, he just had to kill time until night fell.

He drove back into town, eyes taking in the various businesses and residences that made up what was _technically_ his hometown. Even though Dean had considered their house his home, he had never had that strong of an attachment to Lawrence. He didn't have memories of the city itself. All his memories were of the house.

He drove past the school that would have been his alma mater, the park that would have been his after-school hangout, the garage that would have been his employer, the young men that would have been his friends. These weren't just fanciful ideas of his imagination; a part of him could still _remember_ that life from the Djinn experience.

While he felt a small tug of nostalgia for that pseudo-life, Dean also realized that it wasn't what he wanted. He may have thought it was what he wanted during and right after the Djinn had shown him that possibility. But now he had time to reflect, he knew it wasn't. Sure, he wouldn't have had to hunt and sacrifice. But he wouldn't have had the same relationship with Sam. Wouldn't have had Bobby. Wouldn't have had Emilia.

A twinge of guilt coursed through Dean at having left them like he did. He still told himself it was what he had to do, but a part of him questioned if it was the _right_ thing to do…

* * *

Night had fallen a while ago. Unforeseen construction on the road had slowed them down, and it was already 10:30 p.m. when they saw a sign welcoming them to Lawrence. Bobby pulled over and turned the car off. Jo pulled up behind him, and the five of them met in between the cars to plan their next steps.

"Any idea where he could be, Sam?"

The younger Winchester shook his head. "No. I called both Jenny and Missouri just a little while ago. Missouri hasn't seen him since this morning; Jenny hasn't seen him since he left our old house the other day."

Emilia groaned. "So, for all we know, he's not even in Lawrence anymore."

"We can't think that, Em." Jo said, and from the haggard quality of her voice, Sam got the impression that Jo had been trying to keep Emilia's hopes up for quite a long part of the journey here.

"Well, what are we supposed to do, Jo? How are we going to find Dean? Lawrence isn't exactly a _small_ city…and we're running out of time!"

Jo turned to Sam. "Could you maybe…I don't know, _psychically_ connect with him?"

Sam shrugged. "I can _try_. My powers have been kind of spotty lately – pretty much nothing since the vision that caused me to crash the Impala. And I'm still not sure how to actually control them. But anything's worth a shot right now…"

Sam closed his eyes, scrunching his face in obvious effort. Everyone watched with bated breath, straining their own minds as if they could somehow help Sam in his attempt to reach Dean. Sam sighed and visibly deflated. "I've got nothing…"

Bobby walked back to his car and pulled out his map. Opening it to Kansas, he laid it out on his trunk and shone his flashlight it. "Come over here, Sam. Maybe you need a little help."

Sam moved over to stand by the older man to stare down at the map. His body language screamed at the others that he was just doing it to humor Bobby – Sam had clearly given up being able to psychically find Dean and was thinking they should get a move on and stop wasting time.

His eyes flitted over the map, taking in the names of roads and letting them go almost immediately. Nothing was jumping out at him. A second later, however, he was clutching onto Bobby's car for support, screaming in pain as his head ripped against his skull. The sound of a growl filled his ears.

"What?! Sam, what is it?" Bobby was calling out to him, when he finally regained control over his own mind. "What did you see?"

"I didn't…didn't see anything." Sam shook his head, dazed. "I heard something – a growl – when I was looking at Riverfront Park."

Bobby grabbed at the map, eyes scanning it quickly to find the park in question. When he located it, he jumped in the driver's seat of his car, barely waiting for the other men to join him and for the girls to get in their own car before pulling out onto the road again.

* * *

Dean made no sound as he tracked the beast through the park; training had long beat any clumsiness out of him. His gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans – although the park technically closed at sunset, he didn't want to come across anybody with his weapon drawn. The only people he had seen, however, were some amorous teenagers parking on an access road. He had just smirked and walked on by – they had never even come up for air.

It was close to midnight, and he hadn't found anything yet. Dean was running out of time…

He didn't dare risk a flashlight. It hadn't taken long for his eyes to adjust to the dark - Dean sometimes thought his body was _made_ for this. The familiar battle-thrill coursed through his veins, allowing him to almost forget that this fight would end differently than those that had come before. Sure, the danger was always there – that's what made it so exciting – but he had never really believed he would die, no matter what situation he found himself in. This time, _knowing_ he would die…well, that just made it dangerous in a different way…

A preternatural shiver went through Dean, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stick up. He reached around to grab the gun and pulled it out slowly. He heard the growl a second later, coming from directly behind him. Dean turned to face the werewolf.

He should have known better.

It wasn't a werewolf.

It was a Black Dog.

And he was the hunted, not the hunter…

* * *

Sam, Bobby, and the others had made it to Riverfront Park by 11, and they had spent the last half hour traipsing through the park trying to find Dean. They had found the Impala, so they at least knew they were starting out from the same area that he had.

It didn't help that the park was close to 1,000 acres in size…

Sam was ready to scream. For a second, he thought he had…but then he realized that it was somebody else shouting.

He was running before the first gunshot sounded. Branches slapped at his face, and he almost tripped several times as he sprinted toward his brother. Coming through a denser area into a clearing off of one of the park's trails, he saw Dean on his back, holding off the jaws of a Black Dog with one hand while reaching with the other for his gun, which had clearly been knocked out of his grip when the hellhound attacked him.

Pulling his own gun out, Sam stopped running and stood stock still so he could aim better. He'd be damned if he came all this way just to accidentally shoot Dean… His bullets flew true and the hellhound yelped in pain. The shots obviously wouldn't kill the beast, but it was enough to knock it away for a while. Sam wasted no time in sprinkling Goofer Dust around himself and Dean.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was raw and his eyes glazed over in pain. Sam cringed when he saw the deep gashes in Dean's arm.

Dean followed his brother's gaze. "Crap…my coat."

Sam couldn't help but bark out a chuckle. He pulled Dean toward him in a hug, and didn't let go until both Winchesters heard Bobby, Father Aaron and the girls call out to them, having finally caught up with Sam's long-legged, headlong rush.

"Quick, Father Aaron. We don't have much time," Sam shouted.

The priest ran over to where the brothers were sitting, kneeling down beside them. "Dean. I can't explain what's going to happen. We don't want _anything_ to go wrong. You're just going to have to trust me and Sam."

_Trust in Sam, Dean. He's not done with you yet._

"Of course."

"OK. Dean…do you love Sam?"

"Yeah. Of course." Dean looked and sounded confused, but followed the Father's lead.

"Would you do anything for him?"

"Obviously."

"And that will never change, no matter what happens, for your whole life?"

"No…although that's not going to be much longer…"

Sam rolled his eyes, and turned his attention to Father Aaron, who was now facing him.

"Sam, do you love Dean?"

"Yes."

"Would you do anything for him?"

"I would."

"And that will never change, no matter what happens, for your whole life?"

"No."

Father Aaron made the sign of the cross and spoke in Latin. Dean had never been as good at translating the language as Sam – unless it was a ritual he already knew, of course. However, he was able to pick out the words for soul and sunder.

When Father Aaron was done, Dean looked back and forth between him and Sam. "Well…what was that? I don't feel any different. What did you do?"

"Just wait and see…" Father Aaron said.

Sam looked skeptical as well. "Did it work?"

Father Aaron looked at his watch. "We'll find out in about five minutes."

The priest stood and moved aside, letting the others take his place in front of their friends. Sam helped Dean stand, as Bobby leaned across the circle of Goofer Dust to pull the younger man into a hug. "Don't do something stupid like that again, boy."

"Sorry, Bobby."

The older man stepped aside, leaving Dean and Emilia face to face with each other. The others, uncomfortable at having to witness what should have been a private moment, all found themselves intensely interested in the woods around them.

Emilia stepped closer, and Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest and breathing in her smell.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered into his ear, and Dean felt guilt seep into him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry."

"Bull."

Dean grinned, realizing how it was both nice and difficult to be with someone who could and would call him on his shit.

"I was afraid to tell you. I didn't want what we had to be over. And telling you would be the same as admitting that there was a time limit."

"Alright…but from now on, you don't keep anything from me."

"Sure."

"You're just promising that because you don't think Father Aaron has saved you, aren't you."

"Yep."

Emilia rolled her eyes, grinned, and pulled Dean in for a deep kiss. When it ended, she continued to stand by his side, grasping his hand, offering support and receiving it all at the same time.

No one said anything when Dean grabbed Sam's hand with his free one.

_11:58…_

The wind picked up, and the Black Dog started howling in the distance. Sam swallowed heavily; Bobby and Jo started turning in slow circles, guns at the ready. Father Aaron closed his eyes and began to pray. Emilia squeezed Dean's hand harder, and squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever was coming by her love's side.

Dean just stared straight ahead, his eyes blank, his breathing even, his heart beating strong but steady. He felt like he could face anything right now…Sam was at his side.

_11:59…_

Dean's brave resolutions vanished as a burning hot pain ripped through his body. He fell to his knees, screaming in agony. He nearly pulled Sam and Emilia down with him, but they managed to stay standing in the end.

He had never felt such pain in his life. It was like something was trying to rip him in two. His body was on fire, his mind was racing, his heart was pounding out of his chest.

The hand holding Sam's was the only thing that felt normal…that felt strong.

Dean didn't know how much more he could handle. Tears were streaming freely down his face, and his breath was coming in short, struggling gasps. There was no way hell could be worse than this…he may as well give up.

It would be so easy to just let go…

"Dean….Dean! Stay with me! Stay with me!" Sam was kneeling now, too. He faced Dean, pulling his chin up and forcing Dean to look at him. Their eyes bored into each other, and Dean could see his brother's worry and love. He found there the strength to carry on.

After all, he had always given into Sammy's begging requests before. No reason to stop now…

_12:00…_

The pain disappeared as quickly as it had come. Dean wasn't sure if anyone else had heard the voice he heard at the end, but the message rang in his ears. _"This isn't over yet, Dean Winchester…"_

* * *

The Winchesters and their friends all piled into one hotel room after leaving the park. All were exhausted, but none were willing to sleep yet. They didn't want to wake up to realize that Dean's rescue was just a dream.

Dean had been given one of the beds to himself, and he laid out flat. His muscles still ached, but he tried to not let on.

He wasn't fooling anyone.

"So, Father, can you please explain to me what just happened."

The girls looked over expectantly too; they hadn't yet heard the plan, either. Father Aaron explained what he told Bobby and Sam.

"So…Sam and I are…married?"

"Not technically – just your souls are bonded."

"Thank God."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…it's not like we would have had to consummate the marriage or something."

Dean half-heartedly lifted a hand to point at Sam in mock-affront. "Hey! It would have been the best you ever had."

Sam made a gagging sound and shook his whole body in disgust, while Emilia and Jo just laughed.

Dean turned back to Father Aaron with a grin on his face. "I still don't understand why you knew it would work if it was Sam's soul."

"Because…the demon could _only_ take your soul by taking Sam's soul too. If that happened, then _he_ would have been reneging on the deal to let Sam live – and thereby, giving up his right to your soul too."

Dean slowly nodded. "Makes sense. How do you know it will last though? I…uh…I don't think the demon's going to give up that easily."

Father Aaron smiled. "I bonded your souls in life and death, and asked God to let no one tear you apart. Like I told you before, Dean, there is _nothing_ beyond his power."

Dean lost himself in his thoughts. Tonight was enough to make him have even more faith, but he still had his doubts too...

* * *

The next afternoon, the group was back at Bobby's. Sam and Dean were outside, sitting on the edge of the Impala, watching the sun set.

"I didn't think I would live to see this."

"I did, Dean. I knew we'd find a way somehow."

"We should have known that we'd just have to be together to beat it. That's the way it's always been…" Dean said with a grin.

"Hey, we have just as many problems as we do successes when we're together," Sam joked.

"Yeah…but I wouldn't have it any other way…"

* * *

Emilia woke up early the next morning, and fear ran through her when she noticed Dean was no longer beside her. She still wasn't used to the idea that he was OK. She ran downstairs to find him and Sam throwing duffel bags into the trunk of the Impala.

The happiness at seeing him OK died inside her. He was leaving, just as she had gotten him back. It wasn't fair… Why did the world give him back to her, just for him to drive out of her life?

The brothers looked over at the sound of her exiting Bobby's house. They looked at each other, grinned, and looked back at her.

Dean shot her his most flirtatious, cocky grin.

"You coming or what?"

* * *

Thanks for coming along with me on this ride. Like I said, if you have any suggestions/ plot ideas for me to write a new story – either in the Maia/ Emilia universe or not – just let me know!


End file.
